


Tick

by dirtydarkness418



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Barry Allen/Iris West - Freeform, Blackmail, Canon Divergent, Drama, F/M, Gen, Infidelity, Inner Struggle, M/M, Multi, Selfcest, Team Flash, barry loves iris, brief barry allen/leonard snart, but is addicted to sex with savitar, read it if you dare, really really twisted, ref to past barry/eobard hate sex, slash smut, unrequited killer frost/savitar from killer frost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-01-06 05:16:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12204627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtydarkness418/pseuds/dirtydarkness418
Summary: 3x22 - Canon Divergent - Two months after Barry's first encounter with the man beneath the armor, Barry is tormented by what defeating Savitar will actually mean. It's hard to cure an addict.*Follow-up to fElBiTeR's "Hanging Fire" (chapter 2)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hanging Fire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10870974) by [fElBiTeR](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fElBiTeR/pseuds/fElBiTeR). 



> As stated in the summary, this fic is a flashforward two months after chapter 2 of "Hanging Fire" by fElBiTeR. I thought to myself after reading that fic, what if Barry kept going back to Savitar for sex & got so addicted to it that he was genuinely torn with the need to save Iris and what it would mean if Savitar would no longer be there to give him the best sex of his life (in this universe at least). I tried to incorporate all other aspects of that fic (from what's been written so far). Since fElBiTeR is uninspired atm, I decided to take on the task myself. Since she plans to pick up the fic again at some point, I say this is a future follow up after chapter two specifically. More characters will be added to the tags as they are introduced in the chapters.
> 
> FYI, westallen is very much a present ship in this fic. I just know that the westallen fandom would be horrified seeing this fic in their searches given the implications (and very clear actions) of Savitar and Barry in this fic, so I mention it only in the additional tags and the notes. I suspect neither the westallen OR the savibarry fans will be entirely pleased with how this fic turns out, but I've taken the time to come up with an interesting plot - imo - and I plan to update fairly regularly. So, if you're intrigued even a little bit, I'd loooove to get your thoughts on it. <3

Barry hears the deafening sound of the ticking watch on the bedside table to his right. It’s supposed to be quiet, hardly noticeable, but he hears it like a gong – loud, unyielding, a reminder that the countdown is almost there.

11:55 p.m.

Just five more minutes, and it will be exactly twenty-four hours before Iris is supposed to die, before Savitar is supposed to kill her. As of right now, they have no firepower to add to the weapon that is supposed to defeat Savitar forever by throwing him back into the speed force.

_But won’t he just come out again? At a later date? With a more devious plan?_

The thought has occurred to him more than once, but he never voiced it. Besides, everyone was probably thinking the same thing he was. They would deal with that day when they came to it. For now they just had to keep Iris safe, to keep her _alive_. That meant trapping Savitar in the speed force before he could kill Iris, or even try to.

_And then what?_

The speculation to that thought was purely his own. No one else could possibly feel what he’s feeling or think what he’s thinking, what he’s been thinking about since that fateful night two months ago when confronting the God without his armor had ended…differently than he’d expected.

A fight wasn’t unheard of. Almost every time he’d come face-to-face with Savitar – with the exception of when he was chained up inhabiting Julian’s body – there had been a fight. He’d always come away injured, feeling more helpless than ever, defeated, doubting more and more how in the world he would defeat this monster and save the woman he loved. The woman whose very presence beside him right now made him ill.

His thoughts were such a betrayal to her and to them, to everyone. What kind of friend, what kind of _hero_ was he, if he let the villain of his story do to him what he had…

 _Eobard,_ his mind taunted him. Savitar’s devilish grin flashed before his eyes – as if he had been there and said it himself.

Barry didn’t lift his head, but his gaze scanned the room the best it could where he lay flat on his back, unmoving. There was no one else there. There hadn’t been a _whoosh!_ to signify a speedster coming and going. He would know. He’d been on alert for him at every moment he was left unattended to.

He relaxed now though – or as much as he could, given the circumstances. He’d scanned the room, seen nothing, felt nothing. He was alone with Iris in their bedroom. For the moment, she was safe – likely scared and doubting she would be saved, but she was still safe.

He wanted to take her in his arms, hold her, kiss her, reassure her everything was going to be all right. He wanted to make love to her as if it was the last time, even though it wouldn’t be. He would make sure of that.

Doubt crept into his own mind, as it had time and again since that pivotal moment in his life when he’d finally discovered Savitar’s identity. He’d been horrified, furious, confused. He wanted answers, but he also wanted to tear him apart.

And then the fight happened. His injuries were far worse than he’d anticipated they might be, the result of a chase he’d been so sure he could outrun.

Savitar’s first surprise had been his ability to heal him instantly. His second had been that he did it. His third…everything that came next.

Images of that night flashed before his eyes – him pinned to a wall outside, his suit torn from him, his body within Savitar’s grasp. In a twisted turn of events though, he hadn’t been on death’s door. He’d been at the height of sexual ecstasy.

The seduction had been calculated and torturous. It had bordered on pleasure and pain for almost the entire duration of it, but the result had been the same: a release more intense than any he’d ever felt in his life; one that left him completely depleted of energy but more satisfied than he could have ever dreamed.

Even now, as lay still on the bed, making every effort to maintain slow, steady breathing, he still felt it. The way Savitar’s tongue had wrapped around his cock, flicking the hardened rod, working him slowly but assuredly to an unbearable tension that had him clutching at Savitar’s scalp, urging him past the point of no return, to the point where he registered again how sick and depraved what he was doing was.

Who knew the experiences Savitar had? If he’d seduced others, if he’d seduced him in the future.

But Savitar was talented. Savitar knew how to pleasure him because he _was_ him. He knew that despite Barry’s good intentions and the moral code he usually stuck to, that he had a weakness for the ones he hated in submission before him.

Thawne had killed his mother, had nearly killed _him_ on occasion – and Barry had caught him in a cage for months. He’d endured the taunting for as long as he could before breaking. Fury burst inside him, forcing him into the domain he kept his prisoner, daring him to fight him where both their power was rendered useless. Without his powers, Barry felt weak, a scrap of humanity trying and failing to be the hero. If he’d thought for a single moment, he would’ve realized Eobard could pin him in a second and easily kill him.

But he’d been too mad at him for everything – accusing _him_ of being the villain. The irony.

They hadn’t fought. Not for long. Just like they hadn’t fought when he went back in time a few months prior to attain crucial information. The tension between them was so high when there were no walls up between them. Yet for all of Eobard’s hatred, it blurred lines between the adoration he’d once had when he first heard about the Flash _years_ into Barry’s future and decades into Thawne’s past. Barry wasn’t sure of his age, and Eobard – both as himself in Flashpoint and as the deceptive Harrison Wells when he trained him to be the superhero he would become – hadn’t bothered to set the record straight, to tell him absolutely everything about their history he had yet to live, that maybe didn’t even exist anymore.

Time was a strange thing. It toyed with him. It was toying with him now.

Time fucked with him, as Savitar had surmised, speaking generally then but Barry knew it specifically now. He knew the implications in hindsight. He loathed the truth in them now. He felt a guilt and a heaviness in him everywhere he went for every moment of every day that he wasn’t attentive to something that demanded all of his focus.

He heard Savitar’s voice in his head. The way it had been that night…and the nights that followed.

Because Barry couldn’t forget. He couldn’t forget his own cries of surrender, his gasps and moans and groans, the growls _Savitar_ emitted in response, the sucking sound as he pushed Barry to a state that was past unbearable intoxication and the unknown into a euphoria he wouldn’t have thought existed.

And when their eyes had locked in the heat of it, Barry’s breath was stolen from him. The sensations rippling through him when Savitar branded him with hickeys that took too long to heal and kisses that fucked his mouth, drove him absolutely out of his mind. The alternating method of tongue, teeth, and hand, of prodding and teasing and mocking… It made him feel sick, pathetic, deserving of death. But in the moment, none of that mattered.

Savitar’s tongue around his cock mattered. Savitar moving so far up his cock that his nose pressed against his groin mattered. Savitar massaging his balls and teasing his asshole mattered.

The god of speed was insatiable.

A prominent tick of the watch nearby brought him out of his thoughts.

“Iris,” he said, and felt her turn towards him in bed.

When he returned the gesture, listened to her, talked gently to her, kissed her, promised her the world – and the caviar – his heart fluttered. It hurt for her, but as always, even now she took his breath away.

She was the love of his life. He’d waited a lifetime for her. How in the world could he have done what he did? How could he think these thoughts?  How was it right that instead of their intimate time together, his quiet moments were spent remembering Savitar’s smooth tongue on his hard cock? And when he closed his eyes, he saw Savitar, looking at him, lusting after him, demanding he beg, teasing him relentlessly.

That fateful night Savitar hadn’t given a single explanation to Killer Frost when he delivered Barry’s naked body to the center of his lair. Her curse and her wide eyes demanded one, but she was left to draw her own conclusions. Savitar supplied food, water, and clothing. He said nothing more and he didn’t stop Barry from trying to leave once he had the strength.

But Savitar knew what he had done. Worse, Barry knew it had to be some part of his diabolical plan – a distraction, some leverage if he was ever caught off guard and on the brink of actual death.

The day following was a godsend. The accidental amnesia may have taken the memories of those Barry loved, but it also erased that horrendous, glorious sexual encounter from his mind. In hindsight, he was sure that was a mercy, because now – memory restored – he ached for repeat experiences.

And he made them happen. The ache was too strong, the need too great.

Barry Allen found himself back at Savitar’s layer countless times since the first incident, careful to make sure Killer Frost was out of the way, though hopefully not causing enough havoc that required the Flash’s attention.

Besides, Savitar was quick.

His hands were gentle when they moved down Barry’s body, but they nearly punctured his skin when he paused to relish a chosen spot of flesh. His head resting on Barry’s cock was always his undoing. Stripping him whether swiftly or infinitely slowly never failed to fully harden his erection.

Barry had started talking dirty and eventually spotted Savitar jerking himself off while he sucked him, a bigger turn-on than Barry could have ever imagined.

When he was with Iris, he attended to her every need. He wanted her to feel loved, cherished, and sexually satisfied. Sometimes she let it end at that, but she’d been as thirsty for him as he’d been for her since the beginning. So, to avoid suspicion, he let her ride him, let her think he’d come undone. And he did come. In the beginning, he thought he had been cured, and it was all in his head – the lust for his evil time remnant.

But he’d been wrong.

Because after he made love to Iris, he inevitably found himself standing before Savitar, practically trembling, but not out of fear – out of _anticipation_. When his warped time remnant with the burned face and the blind eye sauntered towards him, smirking as his gaze traveling down and then up the length of Barry’s body, Barry knew it would be better.

And it was. The difference was astronomical.

He didn’t like to think about it, and he tried very hard not to, but the thought haunted him still.

If he killed or trapped Savitar, protecting Iris from a brutal murder and guaranteeing her a long full life with _him_ , the fiancé she loved with her whole heart and had no idea was betraying her… _He_ – Barry – would never feel _this_ again.

He’d never feel the toe-curling sensation Savitar’s mouth and hands offered him. He’d never shudder from the sight of the ultimate villain sinking to his knees to taste him. Show or not, Savitar’s moans portrayed genuine arousal. It left Barry breathless and in a constant state of heat.

It would be the same tonight, as it had been every time before.

Barry veered off-course, heading for Savitar’s lair instead of a location that could possibly be selling fresh caviar in the middle of the night.

Killer Frost was in some other corridor of the lair when Barry arrived, sleeping presumably. Savitar was tinkering away with something on the table, dismissive to her distant presence. But when Barry entered the room, he paused what he was doing and lifted his head, intrigued by the prospect of company, though it was obvious he knew who it was. Barry could see it written all over his face as he stood in the shadows. Memories were helpful in knowing what would happen next.

The soft smile bordering amusement on Savitar’s face should’ve bothered him, but instead it tented the soft fabric of his pajama pants, making him lick his lips at the obviousness of it.

Savitar shook his head, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he crossed the room to greet his visitor.

“You’re sooo predictable, Barry.” He smiled slyly. It was a turn-on. “Not that I mind,” he continued, his eyes falling to the bulge in Barry’s pants. “I…quite enjoy our time together.” He fixed his gaze on Barry’s again, his smirk spreading into a full-on teeth-baring grin when he witnessed the adam’s apple bob in his original’s throat.

“You always come so nervous,” he said, closing more of the distance between them. “Trembling. Concerned.” He made a show of furrowing his eyebrows in a display of worry. Then his face smoothed over, and he grinned again. “But you always satisfied.” He leaned forward, his lips mere inches above Barry’s and whispered hotly into his mouth. “And you always come back for more.”

Barry could barely gasp before Savitar’s mouth was inside his, his hands on his shoulders, his equally hardened dick grinding against his as they stood flush up against each other, both eliciting moans.

“Savitar,” Barry whispered breathlessly, as his devil incarnate started a new path of hickeys down the side of his neck.

His hands wandered, finally grasping at Savitar’s ass and squeezing, digging his fingers into the clothed flesh. A quiet choke-like sound escaped him, and Barry wondered if that was what his gasp sounded like.

“Tick-tock,” Savitar said, lifting his head to stare heatedly into his original’s eyes. “Tonight, you return the favor.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should be noted that in my fic in particular, Barry does not consider his sexual orientation bi. He's in denial over it and thinks Eobard and Savitar are just exceptions to the rule (which may or may not be true...as is discussed when he has his sexual orientation crisis in this chapter).
> 
> Also, this chapter is 99% Savibarry smut. You've been warned.

Silence – unending and unbearable for a speedster if it lasted too long – pounded down on Barry with the force of a sledgehammer. The request – or demand? – an unexpected, unwanted next step in their arrangement.

_Return the favor?_

“I…I’m not, I don’t—”

“You didn’t think you’d be the only one to get something out of this, _did_ you?”

Savitar’s eyes lowered to Barry’s lips, but for the first time in all their rendezvous, Barry felt sick to his stomach well before his run of shame.

His mind raced back on all their times together and how amazing it had felt. Savitar had never pushed him to return any favors before, so Barry didn’t understand why all of a sudden he needed it. In fact, he thought he’d reciprocated well enough, given Savitar had resorted to jerking himself off in the process of sucking Barry dry.

“I-I thought…” His mouth ran dry.

“Now, I know, I get to kill Iris, and live, but—” Savitar paused when those fierce green eyes set on him in an instant, accompanied by the tightening of Barry’s fists now at his sides. He smiled slowly. “I was still hoping you’d do the same for me as I’d done for you.” He took a step closer, ignoring Barry barely restraining himself from throwing the first punch. “After all, you know I’ll like it.”

 _Will you?_ Barry thought, slapping the thought away. Because why – _why_ – was _that_ the first thought that came into his mind? Why hadn’t his erection gone down? Why was he getting harder?

“You will _not_ kill her,” he growled, but the threat only made Savitar grin, only heated his evil eye.

“I will actually.”

Barry’s fists clenched at his sides.

“And when I do, you will be beyond reconciliation. Your heart will be torn in two. You’ll give up being a hero,” he spat mockingly. “But not before you’ve tried _everything_ to get her back. Including creating _me_.”

“I won’t,” he insisted.

Savitar sighed and stepped away.

“I can see I’ve ruined the fun for the evening.” He gave one last lingering look at Barry and returned to the table he’d stood at before his company had wandered into his domain. “Why don’t you go, Barry? Go spend this time with your Iris. You don’t have much of it left.”

Barry didn’t leave. After a few moments, Savitar looked up from his tinkering and back at his unmoving original.

“Is she so unworthy of your time, Barry?”

Barry ground his teeth in response, avoiding eye contact. Savitar rounded his table and slowly headed towards him again.

“Is she so incapable of satisfying you that you come to me, her _killer_ , for a fuck that will leave you so weak that you can’t return to her for hours?” He chuckled to himself. “You’re running out of excuses, Barry.”

“You are _not_ her—”

“I’ve seen the future, Barry!” He lifted his arms and spread them wide. “I _am_ the future. And the future doesn’t have Iris in it.” He took one step closer. “Because I _kill_ her.”

Very suddenly, Barry clutched Savitar’s arms, a death stare in his eyes. He didn’t know what he planned to do, but he knew it wasn’t just the fury at his threat against Iris’s life that was keeping him from attempting any real harm against his adversary.

“What are you going to do, Barry?” he asked curiously. “Kill me?” His eye darkened, but not with lust, with hate. “You kill me, you _become_ me. We’re connected.” In a flash, he had Barry’s hands off him and held against the wall above his head as he pinned him to the cement, pelvises in a stationary grind.

“The sooner you realize that, the better,” Savitar said.

Barry was heaving, unable to say a word. He was so mad – _furious_ – at his enemy, more than he’d ever been before. It was never said, and he didn’t think about it except in the occasional fleeting moment, but generally speaking, much conversation at all was a no-go in the interaction between them, the ones that involved heat. Savitar actually _bringing up_ Iris, talking about how he was going to _kill_ her? It drove Barry out of his mind.

Images of Iris writhing in pain flashed before his eyes. Him cradling her body in his arms, sobbing, becoming the 2024 version of himself he’d run into the future to see, abandoning everybody as he sunk into himself, a pathetic version of the person he used to be. That man was no hero. That man was selfish, absorbed in grief, and with no desire to crawl out of it. What rescue could there be when his only salvation was Iris?

Barry’s mind was raging. Barry’s heart was broken, lost in a sea of despair and hopelessness.

But Barry’s dick was lodged against Savitar’s, heavy, hard, and longing for friction. He couldn’t move if he wanted to, but his body wanted to. Stationary pressure was not enough. He wanted more – needed more, and he hated it.

Barry fought the first kiss, refusing to reciprocate. Savitar alleviated some of the ache in Barry’s hard-on by grinding once, twice, three times before stopping. The motion made Barry’s mouth open on a moan, and then Savitar’s tongue was inside, sliding along lips and cheek, running along teeth and tongue, until finally his counterpart kissed back. Barry’s tongue moved. His mouth moved. His lips closed around Savitar’s tongue and sucked, his own tongue running across the tip of it.

Savitar moaned, crowding closer. He let Barry devour his mouth, deepen the kiss until he was so rough with him that he nearly deprived him of all oxygen entirely.

Savitar yanked his head back and stared at him, saliva dripping from his lip.

“Killing me softly, eh?”

Barry let out a strangled laugh. “I didn’t think that was soft.”

Savitar smirked slowly, a progression that emphasized the burns scarring have his face.

“No,” he agreed, then released Barry’s arms and took one step away. “No, it was not.” He paused, letting his eyes drop to the clear erection in Barry’s pants. When his gaze was met head-on by crystal green eyes, his shoulders relaxed. “And it would be just as easy to finish what we started if what you did now, how you took my mouth and destroyed it…” He took that step back so their clothed dicks were nearly touching again. “If you did that to… _other_ regions of my body.”

Barry was still angry, but he couldn’t ignore what he’d just done. Nor could he shake off the first rumblings of fear that had got him off guard when Savitar first made his proposal.

“I’m not gay,” he finally said, to which Savitar’s one well-seeing eye glinted.

“What do you call letting me suck your cock for weeks on end if not a clear indicator that you—and then there’s Eobard. You certainly had no problem letting _him_ —”

“Letting him!” Barry roared, pushing past his foe. “Fine, yes, I _let_ him, but I never—”

Savitar laughed. “Oh, I see. You can convince yourself otherwise if you’re not the one to…” His chuckles quieted. “I see.”

He licked his lips, eyeing Barry’s backside as he stood enraged, away from him.

“I’d forgotten about that.”

Barry stood still, twitching, but not moving, even as his outrage had placed him several feet away.

“It’s only been the two of you,” Barry muttered under his breath. “I see other men, and I don’t…it’s nothing. Thinking about doing…I don’t _want_ to.”

“Maybe we’re the exception then,” Savitar said, sounding pleased. He crossed the distance of the room and stood before him, waiting until Barry met his eyes. “I won’t push you to change your sexual identity, Barry. I get the distinct feeling that you’re right. There’s something about the foes in your life that just triggers a sexual response, whether they’re male or female.”

Barry shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.

Savitar traced the collar of Barry’s t-shirt, smoothly avoiding all skin as he slid his fingers across the soft cotton.

“But you _will_ suck my cock, Barry Allen.”

Barry’s eyes flashed to his, as the sharpest, quietest of all gasps escaped him.

“Or this…unofficial arrangement between the two of us…? It’s over.”

Did Savitar just _break up_ with him? Barry wondered, not wanting to analyze the thought too closely. After all, to ‘break up’ indicated there was something whole there that was capable of breaking.

Before he could figure it out, Savitar shoved him roughly to the floor, rid himself of all clothing so he was standing naked before him, his dick at full attention, and lowered his eyes to the shaft dripping with precum at the head.

Barry’s eyes widened as he stared, and the reality before him sent a blinding truth crackling through him.

“You _want_ me,” Barry said, his shock reverberating in his voice.

“I want you to suck my cock, Barry, yes,” he said, annoyed.

“No.” Barry slowly, sensually, slid his hands up his foe’s legs – ankle to knee to back of the leg to ass, circling back around to his thighs and then moving forward so that his thumbs brushed Savitar’s balls only once before receding back and holding firm. “You want _me_ to do it. You want my tongue to, you—”

Barry stopped, jaw dropped, and looked up at the figure before him who had yet to respond with a snarky comment.

“I remember,” Savitar’s said roughly, his voice scratchy, but not because he had swallowed dick. “Every time I suck you it’s one time I haven’t before. I feel what you feel.” He took a step closer so the tip of his cock was pressed against Barry’s chin. “But it’s a memory so far in my past I can’t fully grasp how it felt. I see it, but I don’t—” he broke off. “I want to feel it for _real_ ,” he growled. “For me.”

Savitar was whining now, like a child having to share his favorite toy. It startled Barry. The villain so talented in seduction suddenly so vulnerable. He demanded, but not because he was trying to manipulate Barry into excruciating pain and pleasure. He wanted it for himself.

Barry still couldn’t trust anything he said. Savitar was always one step ahead of him, always planning, manipulating, torturing. He couldn’t help himself. He had a one-track mind, and that was killing Iris and dominating the world.

But seeing him now, there was a different need in his eye. It was the same look that brought Barry crawling back to him time and again for the best blow jobs of his life.

So, he let all other thoughts fade from his mind. He was hard, harder than before, harder than any time before this time. He’d thought seeing Savitar so submissive, so willing – insistent – on pleasing him was what made him succumb so fast and so deliciously to the seduction. But Savitar standing before him, thrusting slightly, desperate to be consumed by him… Barry nearly came.

With an effort of will, he restrained himself. Instead, his eyes still locked on Savitar’s, he opened his mouth, let the tip of his dick inside and closed his lips around it. His tongue swirled, flicking, sucking, and when his mouth started the stretch across the hard shaft, he heard Savitar’s shuddering groan followed by a vulgar curse that sent ripples of pleasure down Barry’s back and through every limb of his body.

“Oh, _fuck_.”

Barry bobbed his head now, moving up and down the length, alternating between sucking and swirling tongue, tightening his cheeks around it as he thought he’d felt Savitar do to him and then pulling back for the mere second it took him to breathe again.

“ _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ ,” Savitar grunted when Barry took his balls into his mouth, whole and then licking. Barry’s hand pumping his shaft in combination started to dwindle his own strength, his own ability to stand upright.

“That’s it,” Barry whispered hotly into his groin, kissing a space of skin just below his hip bone. “Tell me how bad you want me.”

Savitar responded by gripped his hair and forcing his mouth back onto his cock. Barry gagged a few times when Savitar thrust, but his hands tightening on Savitar’s thighs gave him enough leverage and focus to relax his mouth and let that hard, long, length of his enemy dip into his throat.

It was as if he’d been doing it all his life.

“ _Unggh_ ,” Savitar sounded out, a hissing noise through tongue and teeth sizzling out of him with a shudder as he came in Barry’s mouth.

Not yet retreated, Barry swallowed the cum and sucked the dick a few more times before drawing back.

“Fuck, that was good,” Savitar said, breathing heavily as he leaned over and planted his hands on his knees. “That was so fucking good, Barry Allen.” He stared at his new submissive until he met his eyes, the two sharing a wicked grin before he yanked Barry to his feet and wrapped his hands around the back of his head to pull him into an open-mouthed, wicked, sloppy, fiery kiss.

And then Barry was forced back against the nearest table, a cold stone pinching his lower back, but he made no attempt to adjust his position. Savitar had yanked his pants and underwear to the ground, instantly engulfing Barry’s cock with his mouth. The pleasure rippled through him already, the hot tension building and threatening to destroy him. His hips bucked once, a sign for Savitar to suck faster, harder, to use more tongue, to use his hands.

And Savitar did. He was wicked and clever and a fast learner. This time Barry let himself believe that his other was self-indulgent – and not just due to the irony that he was a mere clone of the _real_ Barry.

Savitar sucked him because he wanted to, because the memory of it kept him awake at night – wet dreams that he hadn’t had before because it wasn’t something that happened the first time around. It was new and real and he wanted to _feel_ it.

“I still do it better,” he said a long while later after Barry had come and they were both sitting side by side against the wide stone leg beneath the table.

Barry turned to him, a dangerous heat in his eyes, not a word escaping his lips. His hand wandered to Savitar’s already hard cock, and his other followed suit. Together they stroked each other’s cocks, kissing when they came, pinching nipples, clawing down chests. Their foreheads pressed together when it was over, both breathing heavily.

“You’re learning,” Savitar said, not meeting his eyes, just breathing.

“I would hope so,” Barry said, cocky in a way he rarely was saving proving his speed or defeating a meta.

He didn’t hear it now. He wouldn’t think it until later, but he was starting to understand how Savitar could be so different – sound so different, be the total jackass that could either infuriate you or bend you to his will.

And it had nothing to do with Iris.

…

 

“On Rhineland and North,” Savitar said absently as Barry gathered his clothes and slipped them on over his body. He perked his head up and looked at the villain absently watching him from across the room.

“Huh?”

“The caviar,” Savitar clarified. “For Iris.”

Barry’s heart dropped into his stomach, the big picture sounding like a gong before him. He wanted to ask how he knew, but there was no need.

“You didn’t come here the first time.”

He nodded, but he didn’t dare look him in the eye or at all. He turned away and then sped out of there. He went to the crossroads and found Savitar had been right. A flash in and out, leaving enough money – and then some – in his wake, Barry took the caviar home to Iris.

“I thought you were the fastest man alive,” she teased when he re-entered their bedroom, take-out bag in hand.

He forced a laugh, knowing he had to sell it.

He hadn’t lied to her about anything this big since he found out about her future, and before that about his identity as the Flash. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he had to keep this secret shrouded in the back of his mind. It would ruin them if he didn’t. Maybe it already had.

“I came as quick as I could, I promise,” he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek so she wouldn’t taste the evil on his tongue. The irony in his words did not escape him.

He _had_ come fast, but he stayed for seconds.

“Want some?” she asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Her melodic voice pulled him out of the memory of Savitar sucking him and, in the immediate past, sucking him first. He found himself wishing he could spend hours in Savitar’s lair, sucking him over and over. He imagined pushing his dick inside his ass, nearly losing it, but forcing himself to hold back until he heard Savitar’s favorite curse over and over.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

And then maybe… _Harder, Barry. Fuck! Faster!_

“Nah, you have it,” he encouraged, meeting her eyes with a gentle smile.

There was only one thing he wanted in his mouth, and he wasn’t quite to the point where he felt guilty about it. “I’m not really hungry.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, plot! Very little smut. Killer Frost POV. Barry feeling guilty-as-hell and some good old-fashioned westallen. I hope you'll still enjoy it! The fun is just getting started.

It was an odd feeling, Killer Frost thought to herself, holding this kind of secret information.

Most of what she knew about the team that she’d wanted to use in helping Savitar, Savitar had already known because he’d already lived it. And the information he didn’t know, he learned quickly, because every new experience Barry gained developed as a new memory in his own mind. In fact, she was getting rather tired of Savitar’s promise that he would give her exactly what she wanted – extinguishing Caitlin from her being for good and embracing her cold powers in a way that guaranteed control, not madness. It was very appealing, but he had yet to deliver on any of it. There was a tiny voice in the back of her head that told her he never would.

 _He saved me from being destroyed_ , she reminded herself, even though that single moment two months prior seemed like such a distant memory she wondered if she’d imagined it. What did he need her for anyway? What was her purpose?

 _Does it matter?_ The voice said again. _He needs you. That should be enough for you._

But she needed a back-up plan, and she knew it. The villain scarred with Barry’s face hadn’t even thanked her for restoring his memories. If she hadn’t schemed with Team Flash to get Barry’s memories back, Savitar’s purpose would have never been actualized. He would’ve been erased from existence simply because he wouldn’t remember that he needed to kill Iris to survive.

She remembered the chokehold he had on her when he couldn’t remember her identity at first. Clearly, even without his memories, his violent streak had a tight hold on him. It was useless to talk him into anything, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to remember that he was supposed to help her too, let alone how to do it, if she left him to fade away.

 _And who would she be without him?_ A crazy metahuman that would inevitably be caught by the Flash and shoved into the pipeline, forced to stay there the rest of her days unless she let Caitlin Snow resurface and take control.

She wasn’t going to let that happen.

Savitar had encouraged her to embrace her powers, and that was exactly what she was going to do.

But she’d be a fool to trust him any more than Caitlin had trusted her friends to save her from herself. They’d put a damper on her powers – contained _her_. But they’d done nothing to truly fix them or get rid of them. She supposed she should be grateful for that or she wouldn’t be here now. Without her powers to save her, Caitlin’s body would’ve taken the spirit of Killer Frost with her when she left, imprisoned forever in the jail cell of that dreaded blue necklace.

The first time Barry appeared in the midst of their lair, he was naked and weak. He didn’t even think to look at her. She wondered if he even knew she was there. Savitar had sped off and come back with clothes, food and water. He tossed the clothes onto the trembling speedster’s body without precedence. There was no care to the gesture, but it _was_ a gesture, and that made Killer Frost insatiably curious.

She shot looks at Savitar the whole time Barry was there, but he only walked past her on multiple occasions and the resorted to tinkering away on his suit. When Barry presumably felt well enough to stand, he crossed the room – now fully clothed – to inhale the food and drink. Without meeting of their eyes, he sped off. Savitar gave no explanation either to the state of his condition, though he did reluctantly, as annoyingly vague as it was, answer one of her many demanding questions.

“Aren’t you worried he’ll come back?” she'd demanded to which a smirk spread across his face. That should’ve clued her in, but that first time it hadn’t. “He’s probably already planning an attack to come back and kill you.”

Still smirking, Savitar answered in the single word, giving as little away as possible.

“No.”

“How can you be so sure?” she’d insisted, arms folded beneath her breasts.

“Barry doesn’t have it in him to kill anybody. Not even his future self.”

She’d continued to stare and later pressed for more, but he gave her nothing more. She pushed a little harder, and he snapped.

“Do you really think he could do it? Do you think he could kill _me?”_ He’d paused, eyes narrowed. “Are you doubting me – the _god_ of _speed?”_

 _You’re no God,_ she’d thought, but she held her tongue. Especially when she saw how deliberately he vibrated his hand in front of her. She swallowed hard and shook her head.

“Didn’t think so,” he said, and returned to his work.

She’d dropped it then, but when he’d unceremoniously kicked her out of his lair a week later only to summon her back a few short hours after that with no explanation as to why she had to leave, she knew something was up. What was even more significant was she knew it was something he was hiding from her that he never planned to reveal.

She didn’t like to think of herself as his lackey, but to some extent she knew it was true. The big bad villain never entrusted all his plans to those lesser than him. The cost of betrayal was too high, and he was determined to succeed. If he had secrets – and she knew now that he did – it was up to her to figure them out.

And boy did she ever.

Three days after the she’d been sent out and then unexplainably been reined back in, it happened again. Only this time she saw him coming. Mere moments before he was about to send her out into a blizzard of her own creating, she suggested she go out and cause some havoc on the streets of Central City.

He’d grinned in approval, then said, “Not too much.”

She’d inclined her head in agreement. “Of course not.” Then she left.

No more than half an hour later, she’d crept back to the abandoned building Savitar had chosen as his lair. She didn’t go inside though. She waited. Carefully, quietly, she slipped in the back door, traveled down unused passageways to the surprisingly stable rafters that hung over the main room and were attached to the darkest corner. It was easy for her to hide in the shadows.

What she saw though was far from what she could have possibly imagined.

Hissing and moaning and grunting and pleading. All from Barry Allen’s mouth as Savitar sucked his dick, fucking him to completion with his hand when Barry arched off the bench he laid back upon as his climax ripped through him.

And then a kiss. A scorching, cruel kiss that had Barry clawing at his adversary’s back until he went so limp his head plummeted to the bench, wounding him. Though not beyond repair. In an hour max any bruising would be gone and he would be out of there, pretending what had happened would never happen again.

Her jaw hanging open, she turned away from the scene, trying to grasp the gravity of what she’d just seen?

Savitar being so perverse as to fuck his original self? Sure, fine. Anything was possible on that front. But Barry Allen, the hero, the moral compass, the man so hopelessly devoted to the supposed love of his life, Iris West?

Never in a million years could Killer Frost have seen this coming. The fact that Savitar never brought it up told her loud and clear that he never planned to because he didn’t _want_ it to come out.

Maybe he wasn’t as smart and devious as she’d given him credit for. She didn’t know. What she did know was she was going to take full advantage of the opportunity laid out before her.

When Savitar went out – and he _did_ go out, though God knows why – she tapped into Caitlin Snow’s memories and remembered Cisco Ramon’s practices in setting up security cameras. She bought some, positioned them discreetly, and wirelessly transmitted them into her phone.

Barry came back again. Every couple days, he came back. And each time he appeared to be more enthralled by Savitar’s sucking skills than the time before. It was entrancing to say the least. After a while, watching it through her phone from some other sector of the building got her off. It probably shouldn’t have, but without Caitlin Snow’s sense of right and wrong to hold her back, she let herself indulge in the sight of two Barry’s pleasuring each other, one evil and the other supposedly good.

Well, the pleasure hadn’t been mutually beneficial until tonight, unless Barry begging for release and inserting Savitar’s name into the plea counted as mutual satisfaction. Savitar always jerked himself off either during or after Barry left, but she hadn’t been able to pick up on if some fantasy or memory of Barry had actually assisted him in doing so.

All she knew was it was pleasurable to watch on her end, and it resulted it giving her a Plan B. If Savitar took back all his promises, if he threatened her in any way, she had this little bit of video as blackmail. With Caitlin’s phone in her hand, all she had to do was send it to any member of Team Flash. They would fall apart almost instantly, turning on Barry for the crime he’d committed. But it would also give them leverage in a way that maybe they hadn’t had before. Because maybe – just maybe – _Barry_ was Savitar’s weakness.

…

 

Barry came suddenly awake at 8am that morning. He was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down the middle of his chest from the back of his ears along the column of his neck. He couldn’t remember if he was dreaming or having a nightmare. Everything was a blur, a blank slate, and then—

 _“Fuck that was good.”_ Heavy breathing, a snarling, completely satiated breath. _“That was so fucking good, Barry Allen.”_

Barry fell back onto the bed, only to discover his pillow was at the very least damp. He groaned, closed his eyes tightly, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he looked over to Iris’s side of the bed, only to find it empty. His eyes widened and searched the room. He got up before he could blink and searched the room.

_Iris. Iris. What if he took—_

_“…the future doesn’t have Iris in it. Because I kill her.”_

His heart raced, and then…

The sound of pouring water reached his ears. The shower. Iris was in the shower. She was getting ready for the day. The last day that they could save her. Less than twenty-four hours now. But she wasn’t gone. She wasn’t dead. Not yet. And she wasn’t going to be. She could still be saved.

He let himself relax and almost sat back down on the bed until he realized his whole body had left an imprint of sweat.

“Hell.”

He ran his hand through his hair and walked to the window, watching the quiet stillness of the city start to wake up. Time seemed to tick away. What were they going to do if they couldn’t find a power source large enough to make the bazooka gun work? How were they going to stop Savitar? He wasn’t fast enough. He couldn’t be fast enough by tonight. He’d given up trying to get faster, and the speed force had made it clear it had to be him alone who would save Iris.

But also… what are you going to do if – _when_ – Savitar is gone?

His dick twitched in his pants.

He put his face in his hands, his elbows propped on the windowsill, and wondered how the hell he had let himself get into this situation. Fucking his future self? The self that was hellbent on killing Iris? In what screwed up universe was that even an option that he considered.

You did let the Reverse Flash fuck you, Savitar’s voice in his mind reminded him. There was no need to expand on the point further. Eobard had quite literally ruined his life, killing his mother being the pinnacle of all the tragedy that had come after it.

It made no sense in that scenario either to let… But last night he hadn’t just let with Savitar. He had actually… And he had enjoyed it. He had enjoyed it so fucking much, it was unreal. He’d gotten unbelievably hard knowing how weak, how desperate his adversary was for him to suck him dry.

_“Fuck that was good. That was so fucking good, Barry Allen.”_

He could feel himself getting hard again, replaying that memory over and over again in his mind.

Finally, he pushed himself away from the window, unable to take it anymore. For months he’d wanted to know Savitar’s identity. Now he knew it. The knowledge of his identity would make it easier to figure out his weaknesses. Every hero, every villain had one. For the hero, it was anyone they loved more than life itself. Barry’s parents had already been taken from him in the cruelest way possible. The only person that superseded their worth to him in his life was Iris. It only made sense that the loss of her would be his undoing.

But what of Savitar? What was his weakness? Barry had the uneasy feeling that, at least based on the previous night’s events, that it might be him.

Was it possible he was already as addicted to Barry’s blowjobs as Barry was to Savitar’s?

What kind of sick level of perversion was this? Savitar was _him_ – no matter how much he wanted to believe otherwise. Savitar was some sick, wronged version of him who had been rejected in the most hurtful way and had turned that hurt into a hatred that convinced him killing the love of his life was allowable if it let him survive.

That was who he fucked last night, who he’d let fuck him twice, sometimes three times a week, for the past two months. Because he hadn’t been able to get his piercing eyes, scarred face, dripping lips out of his mind as he looked up at him and sucked him dry. The hickeys on his legs that wouldn’t heal, that kept him from taking off his pants in front of Iris if there was a light on in the room. They healed eventually, but usually within twenty-four hours of when he sauntered back to Savitar’s lair again.

It was sick and pathetic. The Barry he had been before he met Savitar would be so ashamed of him. If anyone else ever found out about this… He’d be as abandoned and forgotten, rejected and humiliated, lost and alone as Savitar had become in the future. No one could know about this. Not _ever_.

And when Savitar was finally defeated…

_What are you going to do when he’s gone? Whether trapped in the speed force or killed…_

**_Maybe he’ll come out again?_ **

He wanted to slam his head into the wall. How could he… How could he possibly…

“Babe?”

He spun around to look at her; Iris. She was wrapped in a cozy lilac bathrobe, barefoot with painted maroon toenails. She was drying her hair with a towel and looking at him curiously, and then with concern.

“Are you all right?”

He shook himself out of the heaviness mere thoughts of Savitar had put him under.

“Yeah.” He came to her, rubbed her arms gently. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just…I didn’t know where you were.”

She softened. “I’m right here, Barry.” She laid her hand over his heart. “I’m still right here.”

Tears welled up in his eyes as he pressed his forehead to hers, the overwhelming need for her, the possibility that he could lose her forever.

“I know,” he swallowed hard, unable to stop the catch in his throat.

She laid her head on his chest and sighed deeply, nuzzling close. He wrapped his arms around her, hands settling low on her waist. She pressed a little closer, then her eyes snapped open.

“You’re more awake than I thought.”

He tensed and waited for the inevitable sultry look that filled her eyes when she lifted her head to meet his gaze. He hated, _hated_ that his hard-on wasn’t because of her.

He cleared his throat. “It’s morning,” he excused.

She drew her finger down his chest, kissing the skin she left in her wake.

“ _Iris_ ,” he warned, but he hoped it came off husky. If this was her last day on this earth, the last thing he wanted her thinking was she didn’t arouse him. Or that she didn’t arouse him as much as some.

“It’s too bad I already took a shower,” she sighed regretfully when she reached his waistband.

He had to chuckle not to sigh aloud in relief.

“There will be time,” he said assuredly. “When I defeat Savitar, there will be all the time in the world.”

She looked up at him, smiling tremulously.

“I know.”

“Hey.” He lifted her chin so she couldn’t look away. “I’m going to save you.”

She nodded. “I know, Barry,” he heard softly, so faint, so close to disbelief.

“I love you,” he said, never looking away.

That made her meet his eyes. “I love you, too.”

He lowered his head and kissed her. It was a sweet kiss, a kiss that promised everything but wouldn’t relinquish control of its passions. It couldn’t. He couldn’t. Not yet.

He pulled away and tucked some of her raven locks behind her ear.

“I’m going to take a shower now,” he said.

“All right.” She did her best to smile.

“If you hear anything—”

“I’ll let you know,” she assured him.

He nodded, tried his best to smile as well, then sped around the room to gather clothes and locked the door behind him in the bathroom to shower.

He set everything down, turned on the water, stripped naked, then looked into the mirror as it started to fog up.

“You can save her,” he told himself, his face clouding over more and more. “You can still save her.”

He turned away, unable to look at himself anymore as the dark and dirty thoughts started to swamp his mind again in her absence. The torrential, steaming water washed over him and flooded his mind as his hand lowered past where Iris’s had stopped and reached for his dick.

A quiet, needy grunt, and then, _“Savitar.”_

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can only assume that by the number of hits I've gotten, and the fact that I now have several kudos, that despite the lack of reviews, there are some of you out there who are enjoying this story! And for that I am grateful and hope you will share your enjoyment with me at some point. :P 
> 
> This chapter is kind of filler...but from here on out I plan to follow the script of the show from 3x22-3x23 pretty closely w/ some obvious alterations given the nature of this story. I have yet to decide if I'm going to write all the canon scenes I wish to incorporate just w/ Barry's thoughts in regards to Savitar & his internal struggle added in or if I will just write scenes that come in between those written in the show, but I'm sure I will decide on it soon. There is def more savibarry to come, but they won't be interacting again until just before or just after Iris is supposed to die, so hopefully you'll still be enjoying this fic until that happens since much happens before that. 
> 
> Thank you to anyone who is actually reading this. Just a note that the more feedback I get, the more inspired I will be to update sooner. ;)

Fantasizing about Savitar fucking him in the shower while Iris got dressed just one room over left Barry with a feeling of repulsive satisfaction. He hated it. He hated how much he loved it. He hated that the thought – _it’s not as good as the real thing_ – flitted through his brain, got stuck, refused to remove itself. He hated that he wished Savitar had actually been there – _he got every new memory. Why couldn’t he make his desire a reality?_ He could speed in, get the job done, and speed out before Iris was even aware.

Barry would have to keep quiet, which would prove difficult. But he could manage. If necessary, he could go back in time and make the experience never happen. It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t remember when he got back to the present. Except for during Flashpoint, he’d retained every memory from every timeline. And after he undid Flashpoint, he even got everything back. Would it really kill Savitar to come to him instead of him crawling into his lair?

You’re disgusting.

Shame engulfed him as he stepped out of the shower and dried himself off. By the time he’d put his clothes on and was standing in front of the mirror once more, he hardly recognized himself. Physically, he looked the same as ever. There was no burn scar on his face, no smirk that promised nothing but evil intentions. But he could feel it in his heart, this darkness burrowing away, going so deep it guaranteed redemption was impossible. _So why not indulge?_ The darkness pressed.

Barry closed his eyes and saw the disgusted, horrified, betrayed looks on his friends and family if the truth got out. Then he saw Savitar, his twisted time remnant fuck buddy, killing Iris right in front of his eyes – and enjoying it.

_That’s why._

Barry turned away from the mirror, forced the images, the desires he’d indulged in far too much to the back of his mind. Today of all days was not the time to sink into such filthy thoughts. Today was the day to save Iris. Despite the erotic pleasure Savitar brought him, there was no denying how much he hated his nemesis. Maybe that was what made their fucks so good, the fact that every time he found himself standing before his time remnant, he was filled with rage.

It was always hate sex between the two of them. There was never tenderness. And it wasn’t ever _just_ sex. Barry’s hate morphed into this sexual _need_ that he detested, but the hate was still very real. Savitar knew that as well as he did.

He only wished his hate had morphed into something else instead. Like the willingness to cross that line and kill his enemy. Especially this last time. Savitar had been beyond vulnerable. It had been the perfect opportunity to end this once and for all.

But he couldn’t do it. Not even for Iris. Not in the moment. Because if he thought about Iris while he was fucking Savitar, he wouldn’t be able to stay. He’d be too aware of his betrayal to her, and he’d have to leave. But he’d be aching for Savitar’s touch the whole way. Like an itch that he just couldn’t scratch and was slowly driving him mad.

Because he was addicted to the way Savitar wrapped his tongue around his cock, and now how when he returned the favor, his enemy mewled in pleasure and pleaded for more. He loved how his evil self’s fingers would curl into his hair and tug. He’d only sucked him once, but it had been euphoric. It made Savitar sucking him in return even more glorious. Even if, as Savitar had said, he needed practice. He wouldn’t get that practice if he killed him.

But if he didn’t kill him or at the very least trap him back in the speed force, and Iris died because of it, he would never forgive himself. He knew that like he knew oxygen was necessary to breathe. He would become an even more tortured, mutilated version of the Barry he’d found in 2024, because he would have let Savitar – Iris’s murderer – take priority over her. He’d be choosing the villain over the woman who’d had a hold on his heart since the moment he met her. _Since before I knew what the word love meant._

He opened the door of the bathroom, desperate to escape the guilt that was weighing down on him harder and heavier than ever before. But when he returned to the bedroom he shared with Iris, the sight of her didn’t lighten that burden the way it tended to do. Whenever he ran away from Savitar after their dirty encounters, and he saw her, his guilt would soon fade away as he took her in his arms.

But now he could feel them. Knives coursing all over his body. Because there, in front of him, was Iris West wrapping around her the jacket he’d seen when he ran to the future those few times. He saw it when he had nightmares ceaselessly ever since he’d first seen her fate at Christmas – _Christmas!_

And it wasn’t just the jacket. It was the pants, the shirt. It was how her hair lay styled around her shoulders. The reality of what was unfolding, that this was _really_ it – this was the _day_ – sent him into a whirlwind that had him nearly falling to the ground. Tears filled his eyes as he envisioned the night to come, him not being able to save her, not being fast enough or clever enough, him holding her in his arms as she faded away and being unable to do anything to stop it.

“Y-you can’t wear that,” he said, making her turn around slowly.

“What?” she asked, confused.

He staggered forward, shaking his head.

“Y-you can’t…t-that’s bad—” And then he was walking towards her, trying to take it off of her.

“Bear-Barry, what-what are you doing? Barry!”

He stopped, jolted out of his desperation to look into her pleading fiery eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded on a soft whisper.

His hands loosened on her jacket and then dropped to his sides, the jacket falling too. Iris didn’t bother to pick it up. Her eyes were fixed on him, filled with concern.

“N-nothing,” he muttered, turning away. “I’m sorry.”

He sat on the bench at the end of their bed and put his face in his hands. His eyes closed. He shook his head. He felt chills both hot and cold consume him. He shivered in the red sweater that stuck to him like a disease.

“I-I’m trying to be strong for you, I just…” He let out a shaky sigh.

She came to sit beside him, wrapped her arms around him, and snuggled close.

“Something will turn up, Barry. There’s still time.”

He wanted to scream.

He hated that she was the one reassuring him. She might very well die tonight, but he was the one who needed reassurance? It was unthinkable, unbelievable, and it made his association with Savitar all the more worse.

He wished he hadn’t gotten his memories back. His life with his family and friends and Iris gone from his mind forever would break his heart, but he wouldn’t know the difference, and they’d all still be in his life. He’d still get married to Iris. Savitar would fade from existence, and he’d never know what fucking the scarred version of himself felt like.

Because Iris would be enough.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, hating that tears spilled onto his hands.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she soothed. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

He lifted his head, let her wipe away the tears that stained his cheeks, and let her tell him her lies that she thought were truth. He was too exhausted already from the heaviness inside him this morning. From December through March he’d lost sleep dreaming of Savitar killing her; and now for the last two months he lost sleep because he was busy letting Savitar fuck him. He didn’t know what had happened to him or where he’d gone wrong, but he just wanted it to end. It was destroying everything.

Iris licked her lips, trying to think of what to say that might relieve his worries.

“What I wear isn’t going to change the outcome,” she said quietly, a subtle nod to his flop of a proposal the first time around.

He nodded and sighed, turning away again. “I know.”

She leaned in close and pressed a kiss to his cheek, lingering there. It didn’t arouse him, but he knew that was not her intention. Instead, a loving warmth enveloped him, soothing his soul. If she knew the truth, she would never forgive him. There would be no more tender moments like this one. But right now, she thought he was worthy of her, and so he let himself believe that he was.

“I’m going to put the jacket back on,” she said softly, squeezing his arm.

He nodded, not stopping her as she got up, circled around the bed, and walked to their mirror to do exactly that. After some effort of will, Barry stood too in search of his shoes. He returned to the bench to put them on, still feeling dragged down though not as much as before.

Then his phone vibrated. Cisco. He picked it up, his heart swelling with joyous surprise as the message was relayed to him, not even hearing himself speak in response. He nearly dropped the phone once it ended. Iris’s eyes were already locked on his. There was no need to get her attention.

“What is it?” she asked.

He couldn’t stop smiling. “Really good news.”

…

She watched him tinkering away – presumably on his suit again – and wondered how best she would proceed with her plan. Timing was everything, but the day was slipping away. She had to decide when she’d divulge the information she’d acquired and who she would tell, what would make the biggest impact and what would benefit her the most.

She could tell Savitar just to see how he would react. Maybe he’d even have a few ideas for her that would help her decide what she could do with it.

But then everything would be on his terms again. He’d tell her what to do with it, and he’d lash out if she did anything different.

She knew the real dig would be showing the video footage to Iris. She probably didn’t suspect anything like this – who would? Barry was so determined to save her. His argument with Savitar before he sucked his dick confirmed that was still the case. The only difference now was he was more tormented than he’d been before. Because not only had he inadvertently created a twisted evil future time remnant of himself to kill the love of his life, but he was fucking him on the side and presumably unable to stop.

 _What would he do if he **did** defeat Savitar_ , Killer Frost wondered to herself with a sinister grin.

And how had his sex life with Iris been for the past two months with him trailing back to Savitar’s lair as often as he did? Did she no longer please him? Or was his desire for his evil doppelgänger just too overpowering for him to consider anything else?

Killer Frost remembered her first true battle with Caitlin Snow, the one that Barry Allen had irritatingly snapped him out of when Caitlin’s inability to kill someone she cared about had caused her to resume control of her consciousness.

That was incredibly irritating for Killer Frost, especially considering the memories she’d pulled on to get Caitlin into that state. Because Barry had been the reason behind her losing her husband and gaining the powers she despised. He had screwed up all of his friends’ lives and yet he got his happy ending with Iris.

He wasn’t getting it now, but that was beside the point. Something deep inside Caitlin wanted him to suffer, and it was driven by a fleeting attraction she’d held for the scarlet speedster back when they were first becoming acquainted. It revived itself briefly shortly before and after Ronnie had returned to her. After that one slip-up in which she _thought_ it had been Barry, she squashed the feeling down venomously.

After all, she _loved_ Ronnie. She was _attracted_ to Ronnie. And Barry was and always would be lost in a sea of temporary love interests until Iris wanted to be with him. Eventually she did. There was no going back for him. Even as he fucked his future self, his anger remained fueled by the need to keep her safe.

 _Love_ , Killer Frost thought with disgust, a scoff on the tip of her tongue. _It ruins everything._

 _Attraction_ though. She eyes the length of Savitar’s frame, his movement as he circled around his suit and tinkered with various tools at different portions of it.

 _Attraction_ was something she could work with. It was something she enjoyed. Caitlin’s distant attraction to Barry, and her own very real pull towards Savitar’s physique and sassy drive to defeat Team Flash – his _confidence_ – put together was a very powerful thing.

There was no denying how it appealed to her, even with her fear of him and her annoyance that he had to always have his own way simmered in the background.

She only wished she could have been able to seduce him the way Barry had, if indeed Barry had been the one to initiate. She couldn’t be certain on that one, but some part of her suspected not.

She sighed wistfully and started across the room, skimming her fingers along any surface she passed by.

“My, my,” she drawled. “Look at you, having such fun on your big day.”

He didn’t look up, just continued on as if he hadn’t heard her.

“Aren’t you hungry?” she asked, leaning back against the table just in front of where he was situated. “We’re nearly out of food, and you certainly can’t afford to be short on energy today.”

Savitar stilled and looked up at her, eyeing her with an expression she couldn’t figure out – amusement? Or disdain.

“I don’t need you to take care of me, Frost.” He got to his feet and circled around the table. “I have been taking care of myself for years. _Centuries_. I don’t need anyone but me.”

“Then why am _I_ here?” she asked, just barely suppressing the bat of her eyelashes.

His lips slowly spread into a devilish smirk.

“You make things easier.” He licked his lips. “And more fun.”

“How fun?” she teased, lowering her eyes briefly to his parted lips.

She started to reach for his lapel to run her fingers down it, maybe to pull him close, but he caught hold of her wrist before she could make the attempt.

“Do you think I’m a fool?”

His hand tightened on hers, confusing her as she met his stare wide-eyed and feigning surprise.

“I know what you can do,” he said, abruptly releasing her. “And I have no interest in being your guinea pig to see if you could still fuck someone without freezing them to death.”

A dirty glare sent her way, he returned to his project.

She hesitated for only one moment before following him.

“Surely you don’t think you’re _just_ a project, Savitar,” she said slyly. “There’s an attraction here. You can’t deny it.”

But she regretted the words as soon as they left her lips, because he was looking up at her this time in a way that made embarrassment flood through every part of her body.

He stood to his feet again.

“Barry never wanted Caitlin,” he said smoothly, approaching her once more. “And I am never going to want you. You’re not…what’s the word…” He snapped his fingers. “Ah, yes, our type.”

She frowned.

“I’m doing you a favor. I’m giving you everything you ever wanted.” He took her chin in his hands and started to lower his lips, stopping a few inches before she could breathe the deathly chill into his body.

“But not that,” he said.

He roughly pulled his hand away, yanking her chin in the process and circled back around to his project.

“Now go,” he growled. “I’m busy.”

Her lips parted, fury and wounded pride swirling through her. But she knew it wasn’t wise to taunt him, at least not so soon after her failed seduction. She turned away and started to recede into the shadows she’d come from.

Once a safe distance away, she asked nonchalantly, “Are you different from Barry?”

“In every possible way.”

No rage in his voice, she pushed once more.

“Sexually?”

He raised his head to look at her, the sexiest of grins plastered on his face.

“We’re more alike than he realizes.”

She blinked once, and he bent his head again to attend to his project.

She didn’t interrupt him anymore. She’d wait a little. Until his lack of conversation irritated her again, and her need for more pushed her to unveil the card she held closest to her chest.

In the meantime, the warmth growing low in her belly, contrasting so fiercely to every part of the rest of her body, needed to be squelched. Savitar’s curses of pleasure sounded in her mind. If she couldn’t draw them out of him herself, she knew who had, and who she would enjoy watching do it again and again.

She disappeared down the hall to seclusion where the footage on her phone could be played openly, loudly, and with stimulating satisfaction.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to come say hi to me on tumblr (under the same name). I have some artwork on there for this fic as well.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I want to thank those of you who have hopped on board the Tick bandwagon! I never expected such a great reception. Over 700 hits and 20+ kudos in the last 2 1/2 months? A couple bookmarks too? Wow, you guys are too good to me. Thank you especially to those of you who have commented. I appreciate it more than you know. (Feel free to chat with me on my tumblr blog under the same name if you like! I'm not on often, but I'd def be on more if people are sending messages. :P) 
> 
> SECOND, I apologize for not updating this in so long. Life has been crazy busy, and tbh because I've turned this into a legitimate fic and not just a smut fic (lmao), I knew this chapter wouldn't be all that exciting (i.e. no smut and much shorter than previous chaps). It is essentially the next two scenes in the episode. In fact, not much is going to differ from the rest of 3x22 in this fic. There will just be additions of what Barry is thinking. His ongoing trysts with Savitar that are canon divergent will just be more of his motivations for doing certain things, so that will be added in, but the scenes themselves will prob not be much different. In fact, in this chapter, everything is word-for-word how it happened on the show. There will be a couple added scenes for sure, but most of the differing events will start at the point 3x23 started. Still, I hope you'll stick around and have some patience during the next couple chapters. I swear the savibarry dynamic will make itself known again soon, and it'll be totally worth it (at least imo). Thanks again for reading. I will try very much to update more in the new year. :D

Blood pumping through his veins, his cheeks flushed a pale pink as the wind whipped around his face, Barry couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy.

“We found something,” Cisco had said.

 _We found something_ , Barry repeated over and over in his mind. It’s going to be okay. You’re going to save Iris. You’re going to defeat Savitar. Everything’s going to be okay.

He ignored the little devil on his shoulder that whispered what he’d be losing in exchange of all of that. He’d be gaining so much more than he’d be losing, and he had no trouble at all squishing that little devil into dust. Iris was going to _live_. There was no better news than that.

“Lyla,” he greeted, trying his best to sound casual and not bursting at the seams that she was basically about to save his – his fiancée’s – life.

“Hey,” Cisco piped up next to him, probably feeling very much the same way.

“Gentlemen.”

 _Brusque. Okay._ Typical Lyla. He could work with that.

“It’s a wee bit chilly-”

“Yeah-”

“You want to take this inside?”

Lyla ignored their cheerful introduction and attempt at small talk.

“Every square inch of that building is bugged. Figured it was better to talk out here.”

“Alright,” Cisco accepted, clearly somewhat downput.

Barry looked up at the towering building cautiously.

“Yeah, I love the breeze-”

“Yeah…yeah-”

“On days like this.”

Cisco didn’t, but this was Lyla, and they had so much to be happy about.

“So, I got your message,” she said, ignoring their babbling. “But you’re gonna have to run me through exactly what you need again.” Cautious concern was clear in her voice. Slight dismissal too, but Barry and Cisco refused to let their good mood be thwarted.

They babbled some more instead.

“Yeah.”

Barry gestured to Cisco. He could explain it better than he could anyway. For his part, Barry could hardly stand still he was so excited.

“So…we’re building a cannon.”

“Right.”

“Bazooka…thing. It’s a sort of trap.”

Lyla was not amused, so Barry interjected.

“Yeah, in order to turn it on we need something to power it, something extremely powerful and regenerative…”

“Okay…” Still not amused.

“Yeah.”

A gesture to Cisco again.

“So, I tasked our satellites to look for anything that might have our specific power requirements, and…would you know it?” Silly face activated. “We found something that has exactly what we need.” A short laugh. “It’s right there in that building.” A mock look of incredulity and happiness of the convenience of it. “Crazy, huh?”

“I really don’t think you should be spying on me, Cisco.”

He was undaunted.

“Is it spying if we’re friends?”

“But he’s right, isn’t he?” Barry interjected for information. He _needed_ to know. Everything was on the line here. They couldn’t afford to be wrong at this juncture.

“You have something, don’t you?” he continued. It wasn’t really a question, but he didn’t want to be too cocky in case for some bizarre reason she was reluctant to give it to him.

The look on her face showed resignation and a touch of hesitation. Lyla turned her gaze to the building and back to them with a look of acknowledgement.

“It’s a piece of the Dominators’ technology.”

Barry and Cisco couldn’t suppress the smile of excitement shared between them. _They’d been right!_

“We got it from the ship that crashed in Central City.”

Barry couldn’t stop smiling, all pretenses or subtlety gone straight out the window.

“That’s great.”

“You can’t have it, Barry.”

His face fell. Cisco’s too.

“What?”

A desperate scoff of disbelief.

“Lyla- …we’ve searched everywhere. This tech is the only thing that we can use.” Cisco voice was etched in heartbreak and despair.

“I can’t do it.”

For a moment time stopped, and Barry wondered if somehow she knew. _How could she know though? It’s impossible. Nobody knows about your shady activities for the past couple months._ His mind raced for some possible other solution. The mere thought that someone knew about what he’d been up to only brought those memories to the front of his consciousness. The feeling of guilt that wrapped around him, that pounded nails into his skull, that stole the breath from his lungs every time he came back to Iris ever having been with Savitar. And if Lyla, of all people, knew, it was only a matter of time until everybody else did.

Then the logical side of his brain kicked in, and the reason that made much more sense tumbled out of his mouth.

“Is this because of baby Sarah?”

For the first time, Lyla’s firmly placed poker face started to fall apart, and Barry knew if that wasn’t it, it was certainly part of it.

“Look, I’ll admit…it’s been hard not to wonder what it would’ve been like to have a daughter instead of a son.” A look of compassion washed over him. “But this is less about what happened than why it happened.”

Barry nodded, understanding but determined. He didn’t want to lessen the importance of his erasure of their child. A human life was a human life. No life should be more important than another. He knew that.

He also knew that for him, Iris was the exception to that rule.

“I made a big mistake-”

“Exactly my concern. Barry, this is the kind of tech that wars are fought over.”

 _But this is Iris!_ He wanted to scream.

“If something happens, and it gets into the wrong hands, people could die. Millions.”

Barry knew this. He did. He understood the logic. But just as he’d argued when he’d first told Iris about her impending death, _anything_ was worth sacrificing if it meant saving her.

 _Anything?_ His mind taunted. He ignored it.

“And frankly,” she continued, “I don’t know if I can trust you to have it.”

“Director Michaels!” A military figure appeared some feet away, interrupting the conversation for Barry could respond. Lyla directed her attention to him.

“I gotta go,” she informed them, turning to walk away.

One breath, two…

“Lyla, if we don’t use this, Iris is going to _die_.”

She slowly turned around.

“Tonight.”

Cisco nodded in confirmation when she looked at him, but it wasn’t enough.

“I’m sorry, Barry. I can’t help you this time.” She shook her head regretfully. “You’ll have to find another way.”

And then she was walking away, and Barry felt his insides burning and melting with an icy pain bursting and rising up. His fingers tingled. _Back to square one._

Except they couldn’t afford square one. The clock was ticking.

…

Back at STAR Labs, Barry had barely finished retelling what had happened to the rest of the team before he’d decided on the next step – not back to square one. Unfortunately for him, there was reluctance.

“Are you serious?” Joe asked, in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Barry said, confident and convinced this was the right course of action. “Yeah, if Lyla won’t let us have the Dominators’ tech, then we’re going to break in, and we’re gonna steal it.”

 _Say what now?_ was written all over Iris’ face, but he ignored that too.

“Wally and I will phase through the walls. We’ll be in and out of there before anyone even gets out a shot.” His speedster cockiness was at its finest.

Cisco interrupted with his new doom-and-gloom attitude – and the reality of the situation.

“Uh, no, you won’t.”

“Yeah-”

“What is that?” HR stood up suddenly and pointed at the screen in front of Cisco.

“That is a metahuman power dampener. It’s all over the building, so you can’t use your powers inside.”

 _Wha-?_ Disbelief colored his face.

“Can we use anything else to power this speed force…gun-”

“Speed force _bazooka_ ,” HR interrupted Joe.

“Bazooka,” he amended.

Cisco hardly wasted a breath.

“Nothing else. Manipulating extradimensional energy requires well…ridiculous amount of energy, and the Dominator tech is the only thing that can do that.”

Barry nodded. He wasn’t resigned. He didn’t have hope for anything else. This was _it_. But when his eyes landed on Iris, and her face fell, he wished more than anything that there was another option; _something_ that the team would approve of and could save her life.

“Hey, I ha-I’ve-have an idea…gang,” HR interrupted. “What if we just put you –” He gestured to Iris. “Put Iris on a plane to Paris-”

“No.” Barry shook his head, dismissing it instantly. He’d thought that idea through. _A million times over._

“-or somewhere far away,” HR continued, desperate for his idea to be heard and considered, but Barry would have none of it.

“There’s nowhere on Earth that Savitar wouldn’t find her.”

The lull between them all proved enough for Barry to push for his idea again.

“Guys, stealing this Dominators’ tech is our only option, alright?”

“Barry.” Iris finally spoke up. “ARGUS is more secure than the Pentagon. If your powers don’t work in there, how are you gonna get past security?”

He didn’t have an answer for that, so Cisco intruded and went on to explain just how secure the place was. Joe was quick to respond.

“So you’re saying this is the most fortified structure in the history of fortified structures, they can’t use their super powers, and we have less than fourteen hours to steal the thing.”

“And none of us are master thieves,” Iris concluded.

The sickness in Barry’s gut started to bubble up again, but just before it reached the critical point, an idea occurred to him – a very good idea, he decided. Excellent in fact.

A look of realization and serious consideration started to color his face.

“No,” he said glumly, matter-of-factly, giving none of his rising thoughts away. “No, we’re not.”

_But I know who is._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To satisfy my lust for savibarry smut, I have to ask... would any of you be interested in a smut fic of the two months between Hanging Fire, chap 2, and Tick? Like, an actual play-by-play of how the affair started up and kept going up until the opening moments of this fic?
> 
> Let me know!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A dash of coldflash with a hint of savifrost and a bombshell of a revelation? I don't mind if I do. ;)
> 
> I hope you enjoy! I'll update as soon as my muse lets me.

It wasn’t as difficult as he thought it would be. Though to be fair, he hadn’t been thinking much at all when he’d made the decision. He’d exactly one thought and that was when the words _master thieves_ came to mind, there was only one name that popped into his head. _Well, two names_. But as far as he knew, Rory was not as reformed as Snart had been before he died. Which presented a further dilemma. He couldn’t just go back in time and grab Leonard Snart before he died. He would have to grab the version of him that had developed a conscience for more than money, Rory, and his sister. He had to get the guy that was growing into the man who would be willing to sacrifice his life not only for his team, but for every person in the whole of time itself.

Which did present a bit of a predicament.

But, when in doubt, and with all time-related ventures, especially when it included himself, the artificial intelligence, Gideon proved to be of service.

She found out the approximate timeframe in which Snart was probably a bit more docile. She told him where the Legends were and when this particular teammate wouldn’t be gathered together with the rest of them.

All he had to do was go there, find him, talk him into this last-ditch effort plan to steal the power source from ARGUS, put him back exactly where he got him from, then return back to Central City 2017 and save Iris’ life.

Simple.

He heard a snort and a scoff somewhere nearby and sensed it was from inside his head.

He shook himself out of it though and ran himself all the way back to 1892 in Siberia to the approximate location Gideon had told him the Waverider – and thus the Legends and hopefully a lone Leonard Snart could be found unawares.

Luck was on his side for what felt like the first time in centuries. Because there was the Waverider in the distance, and walking towards it, all by his lonesome was Captain Cold himself.

Barry tried to be at least a little bit sneaky, but he should’ve known better. Master thieves have very acute hearing – or how else could they be master thieves?

One step, maybe two, and the man before him spun around, raised his cold gun to aim at his target and barked.

“Hello, Flash.”

Barry raised one hand half-heartedly in surrender and let it drop to his side, in no mood for a battle of the wits, superiority or games.

“I need your help.”

“Barry Allen, the hero of Central City, this is Siberia in the year 1892.” Barry nodded knowingly but glanced around to humor him. “We’re a little out of your jurisdiction.”

“Yeah, here me out, I want to recruit you, for a…mission.” It sounded ridiculous even as he said it, but it was nothing less than the truth.

“I’m already helping a bunch of idiot do-gooders. Sorry, I’m up to my fuzzy hood in teamwork.”

_He really was going to just-_

“Would it help if I said please?”

“No.” By some miracle, Snart returned from his rejection to face him again. “And you already have a bunch of superhero types in your life. Why ask me?”

Barry managed to restrain his sigh.

“Well, you have a…particular set of skills.”

“Great movie.” _Not the point, Snart_. “Last time we tried to be buddy-buddy, it didn’t work out so well…for _you_.”

Barry nodded along. He knew.

“Why trust me now?”

Flashes of Iris dying and him failing to save her flashed before his eyes. He couldn’t keep them from watering.

“Spit it out or I’m going to step onto that ship and pretend like this conversation never happened.”

His heart racing wildly, the word slipped past his lips, “Iris.”

Snart was unimpressed. “Oy. Girlfriend.”

“Fiancée,” he was quick to correct.

“Mazeltof.” Still unimpressed, but now he was at least facing him fully. He had his attention. “What about her?”

“If you don’t help me, she’s gonna die.”

“True love. That’s your pitch.”

His insides screamed.

“It’s all I’ve got.”

The villain-turning-hero walked towards him, and Barry knew he’d won him over.

“And I assume us saving your girlfriend requires us doing something less than lawful.”

Barry nodded, the urge to correct his terminology suddenly thrust aside by the wave of unmistakable lust that washed over him when Snart was less than a foot away.

_What the hell…_

He kept his voice steady.

“We need to break into ARGUS and steal an alien power source.”

“The Flash, a thief?” Leonard hissed, sending chills across Barry’s covered skin. “It’s my kind of mission. One condition.” He paused for dramatic effect. “My rules.”

Barry nodded, pushing the image of Leonard shoving him against a tree, ripping his suit off from the waist down and eating out his ass, a leather whip clutched tight in one hand, out of his mind as he fought to stay composed.

“Your rules.”

Leonard smiled, something that had made his stomach curl in disgust in the past now filled him with a longing he couldn’t ignore because it felt an awful lot like seduction. He knew it wasn’t. He didn’t know if Snart was into guys as well, but if he’d been into him ever before, he would have been blatantly obvious about it, wouldn’t he? I mean-

 _Stop_.

He tried to clear his head, to figure out where these thoughts and feelings were coming from when he’d never thought them or felt them before. Not for Leonard, not for any guy aside from Thawne and Savitar, and those were extreme cases. It didn’t make sense. Nothing had differed in the last two months with Savitar even, except-

_“I’m not gay.”_

_“Letting him! Fine, yes, I let him, but I never-”_

_“Oh, I see. You can convince yourself otherwise if you’re not the one to…I see. I’d forgotten about that.”_

“Are we going, Flash, or?” Snart interrupted the memory shaking Barry to the core.

Barry blinked a couple times, then avoided his gaze.

“Uh, y-yeah,” he stammered. “Just…just wait here.”

Leonard looked at him strangely but complied. Then Barry took off running – faster, faster, faster – until he was fast enough to pick his new comrade up as if he were as light as a feather and speed him back to Central City in the year 2017 for the mission that would save Iris’ life and hopefully Barry’s sanity.

…

 

 _It royally sucked not being in the know of anything_ , Killer Frost mused to herself, once more standing in the corner watching Savitar tinker away at his table, at his suit. He’d been working on it for the last two months, and she’d never asked why. Truth was she didn’t care all that much, and she’d been far too intrigued by the mystery of why Barry was fucking his mortal enemy to worry about this obsession Savitar had with his suit whenever Barry wasn’t in the vicinity.

Maybe it gave him something to do when his play toy went missing.

Personally, she opted for getting herself off to the recording of the endless blowjobs between Savitar and Barry, but she supposed the mighty ‘god’ didn’t have that option. Or maybe he just didn’t want to admit to himself how he’d become as much of a victim to Barry’s sexual encounters as Barry was to his.

Why _not_ work on his suit? The big moment was almost upon all of them. He should look his best.

“What are you doing?” she asked, as if she didn’t know.

She crossed the room to where he stood, nearly oblivious of her presence. She made a point not to attempt to seduce him this time though, not with her voice and not with her walk. She’d been rejected once, and she was not eager to repeat the experience.

Savitar sighed, clearly annoyed. She couldn’t tell if it was more by her question, her existence, or the reminder of what he was doing.

“Flash damaged my suit in our fight.”

 _Huh. Interesting._ Said fight must’ve been roughly two months ago when Savitar had dropped off a naked Barry in the middle of their lair. He hadn’t spoken of what had transpired, though she’d put together sex had inevitably been a part of it. Obviously Savitar had won in both the fight and the seduction, but now it was clear he hadn’t come away from it unscathed. _Points for Barry._

A thought occurred to her, and she scanned Caitlin’s memories for something she might know about any entanglement with Savitar. Her eyes widened when she came to it.

_Jesse Quick._

The feisty, younger, _female_ speedster had gotten caught up in a fight with Savitar as well. And she’d gone back to the team with a souvenir.

Killer Frost glanced back at the suit and wondered if Savitar was lying.

“Pretty badass,” she complimented instead. “Very God-like.”

Savitar laughed, amused, and she wondered if she’d somehow managed to come across as seductive or trying-too-hard again.

“Well, dress for the job you want.”

 _The job you want._ Her lips curled in amusement. So much for the declaration that he was one.

“We’re a team, right?” Her tone was a touch insecure but god – _ha!_ – she just wanted him to give her something. Out in the cold after failing to succeed killing any of team Flash, he’d called to her and she’d fallen into his alliance with an ease she regretted more with each passing day. Where was the assurance of victory he’d once offered her? The security that she was better with him than anyone else, or worse – on her own?

She searched Caitlin’s memories for something to hold him on. “Barry and Caitlin at it again?”

He looked at her curiously, inquisitively, but not in a good way, and she knew she’d missed the mark.

“You’re not Caitlin, and I’m not Barry.”

Irritated, she walked away from him.

“You sure you’re going to go through with this?”

“What?”

He was loud, too loud for how close she was to him.  They were both prickly now, and she wanted more than anything to taunt him about him rendezvous with Barry. But she wasn’t supposed to know about those, and if there was a better time to reveal her hand, she couldn’t lay out her cards now. This was the only piece she had to play with.

So, instead she gave him the obvious answer, “Killing Iris.”

Savitar rolled his eyes, but she didn’t care this time.

“You’re going to take her to Infantino Street and ram a metal spear through her back?”

“Well, it’s either her or me.”

She wondered how he’d feel if it was _Barry’s_ life on the line.

“If she doesn’t die, I’m never born.”

To hell with it. She took a step closer and curved her lips flirtatiously.

“Right, but…behind that pretty little face of yours, you still remember everything that Barry does.” She paused before continuing, willing him to see what she knew without saying a word.

He didn’t respond.

“So, you remember growing up with Iris,” she continued. “Falling in love with her, kissing her…” _Barry kissing her_ , she wanted to say, see if any jealousy would surface on his face from either end. “You sure you’re ready to end her life?”

For a moment she thought she’d gotten to him. He turned away from her, looked to be in deep contemplation, irritated further, like maybe she’d hit a nerve.

But once again, not the one she wanted.

He circled around his suit so that they were much closer.

“What I remember is being created as a disposable life, something to be thrown away when Barry Allen was done with me.” The spite crackled through his voice. “He didn’t care about me. Why should I care about _his_ love?”

He was so close now she almost dared to kiss him, but she knew better. Just like she knew better than to ask if his feelings had changed regarding Barry Allen. The Barry from his lifetime might’ve tossed him aside, but the Barry he’d been fucking for the past two months kept coming back more. He was addicted to him on a sexual level. Surely that might make Savitar think twice about how much he ‘didn’t’ care.

Or maybe she’d misjudged any potentially emotional ties between them. On the surface she knew it was a long shot. Barry clearly hated Savitar, and Savitar didn’t seek to amend that in any way other than to follow through with the plan of killing Iris. But deep down she’d begun to wonder if he was wavering, not for Iris’ sake but for Barry’s.

Now it was clear though that deep down was where that thought should remain. Until there was proof to the contrary, there was no point believing it so matter-of-factly.

“You’re not having second thoughts are you?” Savitar asked, breaking through the whirlwind of theories buzzing in her mind. She shook her head in response. “Good. Because you know what you need to do. And when the time comes, I expect you to be ready.”

She nodded tightly, his piercing gaze demanding an obedient response. Then suddenly he turned away as if struck down, and she allowed herself to breathe. He might infuriate her much of the time now, but he was still an impressive villain, one that could hurl fear successfully onto anyone in the right light and with the right tone. He’d done it just now.

“What is it?” she asked when he remained unmoving a few more moments than necessary.

Savitar laughed. “Barry went back in time to get Snart’s help with stealing the power source from ARGUS.”

Her eyes widened. “Power source – for what?”

“Oh…” He carelessly shook it off. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, should I stop them?” _Anything to feel useful here_.

“No. Let them take it. No speed gun can stop a god.”

 _A god_. She resisted rolling her eyes. Any fear he’d invoked in her evaporated. Any need to please him, to feel important, to not feel disposable herself vanished. This…boy in front of her was inconsistent, insecure, and too over-confident. It would be his downfall, even if he did succeed in killing Iris.

He must’ve sensed her switch in emotions, because his eyes narrowed and he stepped towards her again.

“No frosty vixen can either.”

She blinked, caught off-guard. “No frosty vixen wants to,” she assured, then smiled slyly. “At least not this one.”

“No?”

 _He knows something_. Her ice-cold heart started to race.

She watched in horror as he pointed to the corners of the room.

“What’s with all the uh…cameras then?”

Color nearly seeped into her face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking abou-”

“I know you’ve been recording Barry and I fucking, Frost.”

She swallowed hard, trying not to give herself away and failing.

“I didn’t know that you and-”

“Save it.”

She shut her mouth and waited.

“You think you can blackmail me with whatever…footage you’ve got? You can’t.”

She debated prolonging her denial and then decided to abandon it.

“I was thinking of blackmailing Barry,” she informed him.

“ _Barry_ ,” he repeated, as if he didn’t fully comprehend.

She shrugged and sidled closer.

“It would tear his team apart and completely destroy his relationship with Iris if the undeniable proof of your affair were to be sent directly to them, wouldn’t it?”

He watched her with squinted eyes. She wished she could read his mind.

“Unless you wanted to keep fucking Barry as your dirty, little secret,” she said nonchalantly.

She knew she was pushing it, but she couldn’t help it. She’d been wanting to taunt him about the affair for over a month.

“No.” A smile slowly spread across your face. “You’re right. It would put salt into the wound, make Barry and all his family and friends and Iris suffer more for what they’ve done.”

She glowed unabashedly. _He needs me._

“But not yet,” he said sternly.

She frowned. “Why not?”

He returned to his suit. “A bomb like this…” He looked across the distance to her and smiled a devilish grin. “Wait for the moment of greatest impact.”

One. Two. Three. Click.

“Iris.”

“Bingo.”

“Wait until you bring her here, then show it to her before you take her to Infantino Street.”

“Nothing like having the image of your fiancé fucking your killer flash before your eyes as he runs towards you and fails to save you. Dying will be a relief.”

Happiness spread through her. She bit her bottom lip in anticipation. Of course she’d considered that option, but when Savitar actually insisted on it, she found it even more alluring.

Crouching on the ground in front of his suit, Savitar glanced up at her once more.

“Oh, and I won’t be bringing Iris here.”

Her brows furrowed. “No? Why not?”

He smirked. “I’d think it was obvious.”

She tilted her head in confusion, grateful when he didn’t condemn her for it.

“Barry knows this location.” He stood up and brushed past her to grab another tool. His breath seeped into her ear as he returned to his armor. “We can’t have him coming to rescue her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...confused about what is exactly happening in that first scene in Barry's head? It'll be cleared up in the next chap or two, but basically ever since Savitar forced Barry into thinking he might be into guys differently, he's *seeing* guys in a new light, in a way that he'd maybe suppressed before, and it's happening first with Snart. Also, the scene from the episode where Barry brings Snart back to the team and discusses their next step is implied. I didn't want to bore you guys too much with word-for-word scenes, but in this story it did happen exactly as it did in the episode. I should be getting to more completely original scenes in the coming chapters.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy, guys, sorry it's been so long. I'm not sure how good this chapter is, but I'm hoping you'll still enjoy it. Plenty of this chapter is unrealistic, but then this whole story is, so take from that what you will. The first scene implies and quotes a couple of the Barry/Snart scenes from the episode, so those should be assumed, but the tail end of the scene is completely new, as is the short second scene following it. Also, the 'her' implied in Leonard's thoughts early on refers to Sara Lance, since he's been pulled from s1!Legends and he very clearly had a crush on her by that point in the season.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts! I'm hoping to update now on a weekly/biweekly basis, if all goes according to plan.

Barry Allen. The _Flash._

He thought he knew him. Captain Cold, Leonard Snart, thought he had that scarlet speedster all figured out. The man got his speed as a result of the big explosion at STAR Labs three years earlier and some time after that decided he was going to use that power to become the ultimate do-gooder, protector of Central City. He didn’t understand it then. He was sort of getting a better grasp on the concept now, even though he was still a little resistant to it, but at the very least he’d accepted it. Barry Allen wanted to do good. Good for him. Be a hero. Save the world.

As a result of doing good though, some people didn’t like you. It was the same for criminals of course, but that was beside the point. From what Snart could tell the guys that hated Barry for doing good were a lot worse than the guys who came after you for being bad. You could run away from crime lords or cops trying to hunt you down. But here the fastest man alive couldn’t save himself – or rather, couldn’t save the one he loved.

Not that he was complaining. Of his own free will, the Flash wanted to commit a crime and he’d come to him to ask for assistance. How could he possible turn that down?

Still, it was odd.

Of course, he understood the hypothetical love Barry shared with Iris. He was fiercely protective over his sister. Mick was complicated. And the other… well, he wouldn’t think about _her_ now.

The point was there was something Barry Allen wasn’t telling him. It was probably none of his business, and he suspected it maybe wasn’t about him – or maybe it was; it didn’t really matter. Still, he itched to find out. The fierce determination to save Iris wasn’t the only thing that had the Flash acting the way he was. He’d knocked unconscious the guards on the main floor with the same fervor as if he wouldn’t hesitate to kill them if they truly got in the way.

But the Flash wasn’t a vigilante.

 _Who **was** this villain that he was so afraid of?_ He wondered.

He couldn’t have been the first Big Bad to get him so shook up, and he highly doubted this Savitar would be the last. He also hadn’t been around for any of the previous ones, so he didn’t know if he was acting more or less jittery than usual. No, not jittery. Eerily calm.

“Give me your cold gun.”

“So you can do what exactly?”

“There’s only one way that tech is getting out of here.”

He pushed back the shock that suddenly zapped across his brain cells.

“Oh, I see…You didn’t just recruit me for my skills as a thief, did you?”

Barry looked away, mildly annoyed but not denying.

“You wanted a partner who wouldn’t mind if you got all murdery.”

“I told you what I’m up against,” he barked back in a harsh whisper, then held out his hand. “All right?”

Snart didn’t move a muscle, didn’t change his expression. Everything about Barry’s words and actions had him on high alert – and suspicion. But still, he handed the gun over when Barry demanded it.

 _Give me the gun_.

There was a look in Barry’s eyes, an eagerness to his touch, his turning on the gun, standing up, aiming at the giant shark aimlessly stalking around the alien tech Barry was so desperate to have his hands on. On any other circumstances, Snart would’ve taken immense joy in it. Months ago – a year ago even – he would’ve gloated that he’d turn the city’s hero into a villain.

But Barry was halfway there already, and he knew there had to be more to the story.

“Open the door. Open the _door_.”

He opted for a different tactic.

“Have you seen Shark Week, Barry? Me, I can’t get enough of it.” He ignored the bewildered look on the would-be murderer’s face. “Good thing the Waverider has cable.”

Barry quickly sank back down to the floor. _King Shark must’ve turned around_.

“What’s your point?”

_Got you._

“Most sharks are cold-blooded, but the Great White Shark, like our friend in there, is partially _warm_ -blooded.”

Barry’s mind connected the dots instantly.

“He’s susceptible to cold.”

“Never strays into water colder than 53.6 degrees Fahrenheit. If we lower the temperature in that room to 53.5 degrees, King Shark should fall asleep like a little baby.” Barry nodded, presumably realizing there was a solution besides killing and that he maybe should’ve considered one. “Or you can kill him and prove what a badass you are. Your choice.”

Reluctantly – or maybe not so much – Barry Allen handed the cold gun back over to him, and minus a near death experience and a reprimand from ARGUS’ chief-in-command, Lyla Michaels, they successfully retrieved the tech necessary to save Iris’ life.

“You ready?” Barry asked, referring to taking him back to where the Waverider had been parked in Siberia, 1892.

“Oh boy, am I ever,” he sassed, turning towards him as he came to a stop. “I can’t wait to jump into your arms again.”

Barry rolled his eyes but made to start his run that would speed him fast enough to go back in time to where they needed to be.

“All right, wait here.”

He held out his hand to stop him. “Just one thing.”

Barry’s brows furrowed, but Snart could’ve sworn he saw sweat droplets starting to form on his forehead.

“What is it?”

“I know it’s none of my business, but…what aren’t you telling me?”

His lips twitched at the corner and his gaze flickered away for just a moment before returning. It was brief, but Snart didn’t miss it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Barry said.

“Oh, yes, you do. And since you’re taking me back in time, why don’t you just tell me?”

He scoffed.

“I can keep a secret.”

Barry raised in his eyebrows. “In exchange for what?”

“This one’s free of charge.” He smiled sublimely, then leaned forward. “You just revealed you do in fact have a secret, by the way.” Barry’s face paled. “In case you missed that.” He straightened.

Barry swallowed.

“I don’t owe you any…”

“No?”

“That’s your payment then. My secret for your help today?”

He thought about it for a second, then shrugged.

“Sounds good to me. Tell me why you hate this Savitar so much.”

Barry looked at him in disbelief. “Because he’s going to kill Iris!”

“Not anymore,” Snart retorted. “You’ve got the alien tech. Savitar is no longer a problem.”

Barry swallowed hard, and he knew he was on to something.

“The intent is still there,” he finally said. “And it’s my fault.”

His brows furrowed. “Your fault? How could it possibly be-“

“He’s a time remant.”

Snart’s mind went blank. “A what now?”

Barry sighed, aggravated. “It’s hard to explain…but basically he’s a version of me from a past version of the future that was supposed to kill Savitar to save Iris, didn’t, everyone rejected him, and so he became the Savitar of now.”

A long silence followed during which Snart tried to compute the information he’d just been given.

“So…he’s you.”

Barry’s jaw clenched. “Yes.” His eyes locked on Snart’s. “Me if I lost Iris.”

“And were rejected by everyone because he wasn’t really you.”

He sneered. “It’s like you were there.”

Snart let that slide. “Okay, so what else?”

Barry scoffed again.

“What else? Isn’t that enough? I created him and now he’s the reason Iris’ life is on the line. I want to _marry_ her, not attend her funeral.”

He thought about that. It was a good reason, for sure. Being a hero – not that he had any experience in that, of course – you were bound to feel guilty about losing anyone, having it be the person you loved most and the culprit being a twisted version of yourself in the future…that had to leave a mark. It wasn’t hard to buy that he was drowning in guilt over the mistakes he’d made in the past and the future.

But what about…now?

“Are you a good fiancé?” he finally asked.

Barry looked taken aback – and with good reason – but not in the way Snart had expected. The ‘how dare you’ was clear in his eyes but so was the secret, the additional guilt, he wasn’t saying and maybe hadn’t told anyone. He was horrified that he was getting closer, and that alone told Snart he was _very_ close.

“Have you cheated on her?” he pushed, stepping closer.

“You’re out of line, Snart.”

He smiled. “Am I?”

Anger boiled behind emerald eyes.

“I’m grateful you helped me tonight, really, but for you to go accusing me of cheating on my fiancée that I’m trying to save? That’s… I’m the _Flash_!”

“And so was Savitar!” he responded, though hardly as venomous. Barry’s face paled further, anger no longer flowing from him but a horrifying fear and sadness. “I mean, if he’s you,” Snart added, only feeling a little bit bad about the agony he was inducing.

Barry said nothing, so Snart leaned forward once more.

“Tell me your secret,” he requested again. “I won’t tell a soul, and you’ll feel better.” Barry’s gaze flickered up to his. “Are you cheating on Iris?”

It was subtle – incredibly so – but even if Snart hadn’t caught the slight nod, he witnessed the tears welling in his eyes.

He sighed softly. “With who?”

Barry’s eyes widened. His mouth opened and closed a few times but no sound ever emerged, and when it did, “I…I can’t, no, that’s…I can’t…”

And suddenly Leonard understood in blinding clarity. Barry Allen was not cheating on Iris with anyone in STAR Labs. He would’ve noticed the signs. He’d been there with them. He highly doubted any colleague at CCPD would be enough to draw his attention. It was hard imagining the do-gooder wanting to be with anyone but the woman he was in love with – and he could tell; Barry Allen was definitely in love with Iris West.

No… The way Barry’s voice broke now, the agony there… It wasn’t just because he was cheating on his fiancée and didn’t want to. It was who he was cheating on her with. It wasn’t just offensive to her but to him. It was someone he hadn’t expected, and ironically someone he probably didn’t have any fondness for.

“You hate this person,” he finally said.

Barry met his eyes, tears welling, some falling down his cheeks.

“You hate this person because-”

“Don’t-”

“He’s going to kill the love of your life.”

Barry’s eyes closed, tears still squeezing out, falling down his cheeks.

“ _Why_?” he asked, so confused and just…spellbound really, mystified.

“I…can’t…” _explain_ went unsaid.

And maybe he couldn’t, Snart realized. Maybe he was just doing and not thinking, and when he stopped to think he hated himself so much that all he could do was focus that hate on Savitar, because if he pushed it onto himself he would just stop trying.

“It’s all right,” he said. “You don’t have to explain.”

Barry swallowed hard and nodded.

“I don’t know how you’re going to get out of this one, Barry.”

He sighed shakily.

“But at least you’ll save Iris.”

He looked up at him.

“That’s what you want, right?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he croaked. “That’s all I want.”

A half-truth, but Leonard didn’t push.

“And when you save her, Savitar will be erased from existence. Right?”

Barry nodded again. “Yes.”

He gripped his shoulder.

“Then save her, Barry. Save the woman you love, forget what you’ve done, stop doing it, and work the rest of your life to never do it again.”

He sighed shakily. “When did Captain Cold get so smart?”

Leonard laughed and patted his back.

“I’ve always been smart, Barry. You just didn’t know for how much.”

Barry smiled wryly. “Right. Well…”

“Take me home, Barry. Save your girl.”

A deep breath, another nod, and the scarlet speedster ran his fastest, picked Snart up before he could blink, and raced him back to the Waverider and the assortment of misfits that waited for his there.

...

 

 In Savitar’s lair – his new one – Savitar gripped the cold cement near the window he looked down at. He was looking at everything and nothing, anger buzzing inside him and bursting forth, a rage unlike anything he’d known in his centuries in the speed force consuming him.

He should be happy, thrilled, looking forward to his upcoming victory. Team Flash had walked right into his trap of obtaining the alien power source and now fusing it into the gun – _speed force bazooka_. He couldn’t even roll his eyes at the absurdity of the name now.

Everyone was falling into place. But that thing…that one thing…that single memory, another new one, burned itself into his mind.

Barry had confessed. And not to anyone who would condemn him, not even to a friend or to someone who would live to 2017.

He’d confessed to Captain Cold, of all people. He confessed his hatred and guilt and remorse that he carried with him every day and Savitar was well aware of because he felt it in hindsight as a memory.

But also, Barry felt something new towards the formidable thief…

 _Lust_.

Savitar knew he shouldn’t be enraged by that, but he was. Because he had more or less told Barry that eventually he’d come to accept his attraction for men and indulge in it. He’d laughed when it had become clear that Barry hadn’t yet.

But now that he was starting to – thanks to himself putting the idea into his conscious mind – Savitar wondered if…

“Think Barry will find this place?” Killer Frost drawled from across the room.

He nearly killed her on the spot. It took great effort to remind himself that she was his best bargaining chip, his perfect willing hostage.

He shattered the glass window in front of him instead, punching it through with his fist. He watched as the blood seeped out of cuts on his knuckles and dripped over his fingers.

There was dead silence in the room for nearly a minute, then the retreating of clicking heels on the hard floor as Killer Frost left the room. _Good_.

He closed his eyes when she’d gone and envisioned himself killing Iris West, sticking that spear through her back, not even watching as she crumpled to the ground in front of him, only taking unbelievable joy from the sight of Barry Allen so in pain.

He pulled his fist back and pressed it firmly into the wall as he stared out onto the empty, desolate land surrounding the building.

“You’re going to die, Iris West. I’m going to make Barry suffer.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I am PROUD of this chapter. I hope you enjoy it too! I always thought the scene from the episode could've been far longer and more interesting than it was. Plus...savibarry spin on it ftw. ;P
> 
> Let me know what you think!

It was easy.

Not _too_ easy, because that would imply he was bound to be outsmarted. But easy enough to make them all feel like fools, thwarted once again by the God of speed. Because sure, they’d taken the extra step to make sure Barry wouldn’t have the knowledge of where Iris was hiding. But they had never considered he – Savitar – might still have that wretched red Flash suit in his possession.

They’d been _told_ he was a twisted time remnant of their precious Barry Allen from the future, but they’d never seen him in the flesh. All they’d seen was his distorted menacing voice coming out of Julian Albert’s mouth and himself in his carefully crafted monster super suit. It was far more superior than that pathetic red thing, but sacrifices must be made for great rewards. Tricking them all into believing he was their beloved speedster was a great reward for having to suffer that hideous skintight garment.

_“I need you to take Iris somewhere far away from here, far away from me.”_

_“Barry…”_

_“I can’t know where. If I know, then Savitar knows.”_

Savitar smirked, coming to a stop in a deceptively empty STAR Labs on Earth 2.

“Man plans…God laughs.”

A few steps into the room, he knew he was making noise. He could hardly creep along quietly like a cat with his clunky armor encasing him. He wasn’t worried. Iris West’s protectors would come out of hiding eventually. HR hadn’t lied to him. He was too much of a blind, reckless fool to do that. He’d be convinced he was Barry and high on the pointless victory Barry had in fact achieved. He wasn’t thinking, and that was to Savitar’s benefit, as he knew it would be.

“You can’t hide forever,” he taunted, his mechanical voice echoing throughout the room.

Finally, Joe came into view, followed by Harry – both with guns. _Futile_. And Wally West, stupidly confident that he could take him down even now. His love for his sister and his hatred for the man who was destined to kill her undoubtedly fostered this stupid belief. It didn’t matter though. Savitar enjoyed his victories most when his victims were so convinced they wouldn’t fall. He made sure they always did and always would.

Gun shots went off. They kept coming, and he kept walking towards them, bullets flying off his suit like bouncy balls. He stopped.

“Fools. Do you really think you can defeat a God?”

A hushed whisper from the clothed in yellow whisper, “I got him.”

But he didn’t. Sure, the lack of heavy metal made Wally West move more swiftly, dodging punches to the face and to the belly. He even ran around Savitar and started punching him from behind, hoping to make some kind of dent. But he had still barely tapped into his skills as a speedster. He didn’t have what it took to harm any part of the solidly-built suit. Savitar grew bored of him trying.

Quicker than lightning, Savitar yanked the young speedster in front of him, forcing his knee to bend and twisting his calf so severely that Wally cried out in pain at the sharp, unrelenting agony of it. He heard bones crack and felt muscles tear. But just in case he so much as calculated some sort of last ditch effort, Savitar through Wally to the ceiling hard and fast. The younger speedster fell to the ground just as fast, just as hard, knocked almost unconscious.

He would heal. All speedsters did. But not before Savitar took Iris away from them. He wouldn’t even heal before he murdered Iris West and so was reborn in this time and place, on the brink of full dominion over time and space.

Harry and Joe were frozen to the spot – wanting to go to Wally but knowing they didn’t stand a chance in hell of getting there alive. So, Savitar walked over to him. Quiet groaning emanated from him but he didn’t seem to be aware of his surroundings or what even had just happened to him. Shame.

He bent over him and spoke haughtily, “I’m going to enjoy driving a spear through your sister’s heart.”

“No!”

“Joe, stop!”

Joe advanced, shooting recklessly, despite Harry’s attempts to stop him. And so Savitar shut down his suit and released himself from it.

The mere mortals were too stupid to even consider what he was capable of. They only kept approaching the now empty suit cautiously.

“Over here,” Savitar said, just as Joe had begun to reach for his son.

They both spun around, looking wide-eyed at him as they finally took in the warped version of the man they so loved and admired and supported wholeheartedly. It made him hate Barry Allen even more – that blind devotion these people had to him. But he also thoroughly enjoyed the fear written all over their faces.

 _If they only knew just how deeply he affected them, how excruciating their pain would be long after Iris was gone_. He eagerly looked forward to when the truth would be unveiled.

Harry was silent, but Joe spoke. He couldn’t help himself.

“Oh, my God…so, it’s true.”

Savitar smirked. “Yes, it is.”

“Listen to me,” he began cautiously. “You were my son once.”

“Oh…”

He would humor him.

“Whatever I did to make you feel this way, I’m sorry.” He paused, no doubt summoning whatever courage he had left. “Please, Barry.”

“No.” Flames of hate flickered inside him as the memories of being tossed aside flooded through him.

_“You’re not Barry. You should have died.”_

“That’s not my name,” he said coolly, arrogance laced on his tongue as he stared down this mortal with calculated condescension.

He was _not_ Barry. Barry was the helpless, pathetic speedster he came from, the one who rejected him, the one who fucked him, the one who created him only to throw him away when he didn’t die trying to do what he wished of him. He hated Barry. He was not him.

“ _Barry_.”

“That’s not my name!”

Joe was rendered silent, but Savitar was not fooled. He saw Harry moving his hand behind his back. He was pulling a gun out, one he no doubt assumed would kill his adversary on the spot.

“Shoot me, and you die.”

He turned to face him and then nudged his head towards Joe.

“Both of you will.”

Harry stuck the gun back behind him and let his arm fall to his side.

“Where’s Iris?”

Neither said a word, not that he expected them to.

“I can kill both of you…” he trailed off, leaning towards them. “But I’m still going to find Iris.” He lowered voice to a whisper. “And I’m going to kill her.”

He straightened when he grew tired of the frightened look on Joe’s face and the determined one on Harry’s.

“No? Nothing?” He shrugged on a melancholy sigh, then faster than they could blink, he had them both tied up tightly in the corner of the room, tight rope and wire binding their wrists and arms behind their body. “I guess I’ll have to find her myself.”

Harry and Joe were still in shock and only starting to struggle in their entrapment when he proceeded to walk out of the room and down the long, large, winding hall.

…

The lights were out, the hall completely dark, but Savitar was nothing if not resourceful. Pulling his sleeve up, he clicked a switch on the small band around his wrist, instantly flooding the hall with a blinding light.

“There. Much better.”

He continued down the hall, almost cheerful.

Every room he came to, he thoroughly investigated. Still, he relied mostly on his hearing. If someone were to dart down the hall behind him, he would know. If a crumb on the floor so much as drifted two inches on the far side of whatever room he was in, he would know. And if Harry and/or Joe were dumb enough to try and hunt him down before he discovered his buried treasure, he would not hesitate to kill them on the spot.

Well, maybe he would spare them. It’d be more satisfying to see them torn apart by Iris’ death. He could always kill them later if they proved too annoying for him.

At any rate, it didn’t matter. Harry Wells and Joe West never came down the hall after him. And, despite the time ticking away and Savitar being fairly sure he knew where Iris West was hiding, he checked every room. Because of how soundproof the room she was hiding in was, he couldn’t hear her moving around or breathing, couldn’t feel her heart racing. But he knew it was. He knew she was getting more nervous with every passing second when no one came to tell her it was safe to come out, that she’d been saved, that _he_ was gone.

No one was coming to rescue her. He _was_ coming for her though. He would take her kicking and screaming or calmly. She wouldn’t be able to outrun him or injure him to the point of incapacitating him even if she wanted to, so he knew she wouldn’t.

Having thoroughly searched every room but the one she was in, Savitar slowly started to make his way to the final room – the time vault.

“Oh, Iris…” he smirked to himself. “Iris…Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

He paused when he was right in front of the room that looked nothing more than another space of wall. He placed his hand on the surface in front of him and the doorway identical to the one on Earth 1 revealed itself. Smiling, he stepped inside.

She was huddled in the corner. He couldn’t see her, but he knew she was there. He could hear her breathing. She was trying to hold her breath, but she was terrified. She’d been crying too because he could hear the sniffles seeping out of her.

He sighed and shook his head. “To think those sounds used to concern me.”

He crossed the threshold at the halfway point and the mirage faded away. Now he could clearly see Iris before him. She refused to look away, and he had to commend her for that. The scar on his face was hideous, and he looked so much like the love of her life it must’ve taken her nightmares to the next level.

“You know…” He took a step closer to her. “You did a good job of hiding. I mean, I always knew you were in here, but thinking of coming in here? Not a bad call. It’s certainly a safer spot than any of the other rooms in this god-forsaken building.”

She swallowed. “My dad…Wally…Harry… Are they-”

“Alive,” he answered, almost sickened by how selfless she was. “Your useless brother is severely injured, but the other two are just tied up.”

Her quiet gasp of alarm filled him with some joy but not much.

“Are you going to kill them?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he said smoothly. “They have to watch you die.”

Her bottom lip trembled.

“Anything else, Princess, or shall we go now?”

“I have something to say.”

The words didn’t come from Iris. It came from behind Savitar, and it wasn’t one of the annoying mortals or the wounded speedster either.

Iris gasped quietly, her eyes going wide with surprise and relief, but she didn’t say his name. It didn’t matter. He’d know that voice anywhere. It had once been his own.

He turned around to face the villain of his own story.

“Barry…Allen. I was hoping we’d meet again.”

He let his gaze linger down the speedster’s body. He was thrumming with anger, just the way he liked him. Hate blazed in his eyes as his fists clenched. The memory of last night’s fuck floated across his mind. It had been just like this then, only Iris hadn’t been in the way.

“You really do make red look good.” He smirked.

Iris was oblivious to the deeper meaning to his words, but he figured he wouldn’t spoil the surprise yet. He had, after all, promised Killer Frost that pleasure.

“This is between us,” Barry said. “Leave her out of it.”

Savitar laughed. “Iris can’t be left out of it. She _is_ what’s between us. She’s my beginning…and your end.” He turned his hand into a vibrational blur. “But if you want to fight before we go, I’m certainly not opposed.”

Barry took a step forward.

“Barry, no,” Iris pleaded, but he ignored her, his eyes locked on Savitar’s.

Savitar side-stepped so Iris couldn't see the look in his eyes and let the lustful thoughts filling him pour into Barry's line of vision.

 _Fuck me_.

Savitar knew he read the message. He froze momentarily to gain access to the new thoughts brought on by the new memory and grinned. He wanted to fuck him too.

“Should we tell her what we’ve been up to?” he teased.

Barry’s eyes narrowed, but nothing about his demeanor portrayed that he had been anything but honest with his wife-to-be. _Impressive_.

“Joe, Harry, and Wally are all safe,” Barry said calmly, talking to Iris even as his eyes remained locked on Savitar’s.

Iris sighed in relief. “Oh, thank God,” she murmured quietly.

“Yes,” Savitar snarked. “Thank God those idiots are still alive.”

Barry approached the middle of the room.

“Let her go.”

“And fade away into existence?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“I know where you’re going to take her,” he said, determined. “You take her there, I’ll take her right back.”

“Oh, sweet Barry!” He reached to stroke his face, but Barry reeled back, infuriated. He let his hand fall to his side. “You don’t know as much as you think you do.”

Barry glared a moment longer, then roughly pushed Savitar against the wall away from Iris.

“Iris, run!”

She bolted.

“She won’t get far,” Savitar sneered, then leaned towards Barry’s face. “I’m the _God_ of _speed_.”

Barry threw him across the room, shoving him to the ground then to the wall, kicked him in the gut, punched him in the face, kneed him in the balls…

“We can’t have fun if you do that, Barry,” he laughed.

“Shut the hell up, you fucking bitch.”

He threw him to the ground again, then hovered over him to bend his joints out of proportion. But Savitar was done taking his shit, done pretending to have gone weak at the sheer force of his original self. When Barry hovered over him, he flipped him hard onto his back, pinning his hands on either side of him on the floor. He spread Barry’s legs apart and slowly, enticingly, brushed his semi-hard cock over Barry’s – red suit and black pants between them, but it was still effective.

Barry couldn’t suppress the moan. He could only quiet it. And Savitar, for all his determination and advantage, briefly saw stars behind his eyelids.

“If only we could do this all day, Barry Allen,” he purred.

“Fuck…you.”

Savitar ground his dick against Barry’s crotch again, phasing through until their cocks were touching each other – but only for a moment. He didn’t have time to indulge in this pleasure, and he knew it.

“Maybe later,” he said and flashed out of there.

Barry snapped up immediately and sped out into the room he’d first come in. Joe, Wally, and Harry were all safely back at STAR Labs on Earth 1. He doubted Savitar intended to harm them until after his plot to kill Iris was over.

There was no relief in that now though, because Savitar was gone and Iris with him.

Barry screamed in agonizing frustration.

He’d _had_ him. He’d had Savitar in the palm of his hand, beating the crap out of him. But he hadn’t frightened a single bone in that distorted man’s body. Sure, the corners of his lips bled and he’d no doubt bruised him up a bit. But not a bone had been shattered and not a muscle or tendon had been torn. His spirit had not been broken.

He’d simply waited until Barry’s fury made him reckless, and then he took advantage.

He’d fucking flipped him over at the height of his abuse and violated him on the floor. He used the leverage he always had when they saw each other. Barry’s love for Iris drew him to attack. Barry’s hate for Savitar, his addiction to Savitar’s _fucks_ – they were his weakness.

A last-ditch effort – just in case she had escaped, Barry called out.

“Iris?”

A cry more than a summons, and no sound to follow; not a hint to suggest she wasn’t in the grips of the man determined to rip the life from her. There was no point in hoping for anything other than what he saw right in front of him.

He returned to STAR Labs after checking Savitar’s lair that he’d been to countless times and found it empty. Everyone waiting for him gave him the support that should have been enough.

“You tried,” Joe said, trying to reassure him.

Barry tried his very best not to recoil and lash out. Because he had tried, but Joe didn’t know everything. No one did. No one but him and Savitar; and now, not only was Iris less than an hour away from her execution but there was a very good chance Savitar would damn him further by letting out their dirty little secret to the love of his life.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been forever and a day, I'm so sorry. I shall try to do better. Enjoy!

Iris awoke to the smell of damp cement, wet wood, and mold. The cement was beneath her where she sat amidst old crates on the floor. She didn’t know where she was, and she couldn’t remember having gone unconscious, but it must’ve happened sometime between when Savitar snatched her up and when they arrived at his destination.

_Savitar._

She rubbed her eyes, brushing the hair out of her face, and sat up, looking around the room for a sign of her captors. They weren’t hard to find. Savitar and Killer Frost stood talking on the far side of the room, no doubt discussing their devious plan before they put it into action. She knew what Savitar planned to do because Barry had described it, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out how Caitlin’s evil meta alter ego was involved. She supposed she’d find out.

She looked behind her and saw a hallway. It probably led to the exit. She wondered how far she’d really get if she’d try to escape though. Savitar had caught her in Earth 2’s STAR Labs. He could very easily catch her here.

Was she really resigned to just wait here for her death though? There was absolutely no way to get out of this except for team Flash to figure out a way to stop him?

She’d tried so hard to be positive, to tell herself she was in charge of her own destiny, and no one was going to be killing her without her say so. But when it came down to it, Savitar was strong and powerful and filled with hatred for Barry. Maybe not for her, but maybe by default he did hate her. Maybe even if there was a way to save him that didn’t involve killing her he wouldn’t take it. Maybe he just hated Barry that much.

There was only one other avenue out of this one that she could possibly think of, and that was turning Killer Frost against Savitar, bringing Caitlin back, and making a plan to defeat him before time ran out.

“Could I get some water?” she called out hesitantly.

The two deviants turned to look at them, initially surprised and then incredibly amused.

 _So much for your brilliant excuse, Iris_ , she scolded herself.

“Or do you not have water in this hell hole?” she added sarcastically – because why not? If all went according to Savitar’s plan he wouldn’t kill her without Barry there to see it.

A fire blazed in Killer Frost’s eyes, ready to attack if she was so called to – eager to, it seemed like. But Savitar only rolled his eyes and said something to his counterpart. Iris could only assume it was to grant her request, because a few minutes later the icy vixen was before her with a hardly sanitary-looking cup of water.

Iris glanced down at it, extremely hesitant.

“What?” Frost asked, snark reverberating off her. “I thought you were thirsty.”

Daintily Iris took the cup from her, and then, just as Frost was about to leave, she threw it on her, successfully drenching her face and everything above the provocative cut of her dress.

Infuriated, she turned towards Savitar, who despite himself was smirking. Iris smirked a little too himself. The evil version of Barry was bordering on laughter.

“Can I do it already?” Frost fumed, enraged.

Iris tensed at that. Do what? Surely she wouldn’t kill her. That was Savitar’s job. But she realized belatedly that torture probably wasn’t off the menu as long as they didn’t damage her face and so contort Barry’s vision from the future – from tonight.

Savitar rolled his eyes and nodded, granting permission to whatever his lackey wanted to do.

Iris reached for her before she walked away.

“You don’t have to do this, Caitlin,” she urged, holding tight to her arm.

Killer Frost wrenched herself free.

“Caitlin Snow is dead.” She took a step back. “And trust me, this is something I really have to do. I’m looking forward to it.”

Iris considered how maybe throwing water in her face hadn’t been the wisest of ideas. She just wanted to get her over by her, so she could try to change her mind on whose side she was on. But the dirty water that would no doubt make her sick in the final minutes of her life fueled her rage that she’d become so good at keeping bottled up. She had to retaliate somehow. Her retaliation, though, had cost her. She wondered if without it she would have had more success.

The likely possibility that she wouldn’t have been left her numb with a sickness creeping inside her, despite not indulging in the dirty water.

While Killer Frost was gone, Savitar eyed him from across the room. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. There was a mix of emotions crossing his face. She didn’t know if she could take advantage of any of them. His walls were so high and his hatred so intense, there was little chance she could dim them even in the slightest.

But she had to try.

“You don’t have to do this,” she told him.

He smirked. “Actually, I do.”

“You were a hero once. You can be one again.”

She took a baby step in his direction. His gaze lowered to her feet, but she didn’t retreat. He made no move to make her.

“I was never a hero.” He paused, his mouth opening and closing several times before he spoke again. She wondered what could be so hard for him to say. “I failed,” he finally said.

Her eyes widened, and she swallowed hard. Maybe she could work with this.

“You can still be one,” she said gently. “You just have to want it.”

“I don’t want it!” he snarled, and she recoiled, stepping back.

Killer Frost stepped back into the room before Iris could continue her conversation with Savitar. As frightened as she was, the compassion she so easily offered yearned to fix him, to comfort him, to reassure him. It made no sense other than the fact that he had once been _her Barry_. And if he had been a near identical copy of him once, he could be him again.

“Ready, Princess?” Frost taunted, sufficiently pulling Iris away from her focus on Savitar.

She frowned, seeing no torture devices in her hands, not even a giant icicle like she’d nearly used to impale Barry back when Caitlin was still mostly in control.

“I don’t understand.” She looked back up to her.

Killer Frost smirked. “Trust me, you will.”

Savitar crossed the room to the two women, eager to see Iris’ reaction up close.

“You remember when I asked Barry on Earth 2 if we should tell you what we’d been up to?”

Iris frowned, only a vague memory flitting to the surface amidst all the chaos that had happened there.

“I…don’t…”

“I could’ve told you then, but then I wouldn’t have proof to back it up. And as willing as you are to believe the impossible, I know you would’ve taken Barry’s word over mine in a heartbeat, just like you’ve been believing his sorry ass for the last two months.”

Dread washed over her, but she couldn’t figure out why. Was Savitar suggesting that Barry had betrayed her? Or betrayed the team maybe? That he was actually helping his nemesis follow through on his plan to kill her? She couldn’t imagine him secretly working behind their backs. Him actually wanting her dead for whatever reason, or planning to kill her… She couldn’t imagine it. It seemed unthinkable.

“Think she knows?” Killer Frost asked Savitar, glancing back at him.

“Nah,” he said assuredly. “Whatever _terrible assumptions_ she’s come up with, she’d never imagine this.”

His mocking tone sent chills up Iris’ spine. Her fingers tingled. Her feet felt like lead.

_What had Barry done?_

“Play it,” he said.

Killer Frost lifted the device, skimming the screen for the exact video she was looking for.

“So many to choose from…” she said delightfully, almost in a sing-song voice.

“Just _pick one_ ,” Savitar snarled.

She rolled her eyes but selected one only a few seconds later. Then she turned the phone around, turned up the volume, pressed play and let Iris watch.

At first Iris didn’t exactly know what she was looking at. It was an empty room, a large room. It looked similar to the one she was in but not the same one. Savitar was tinkering around at a table with something, his suit it looked like. Killer Frost was nowhere to be seen.

“Where…where is…”

“ _Watch_ ,” Savitar commanded, managing to stifle most of his irritation.

She shut her mouth and focused entirely into view.

“ _Barry_.” She gasped when she saw him.

She was elated at first, though she knew she shouldn’t have been. Why would Savitar and Killer Frost be showing her this video if something good had come out of it for her and Barry?

And it wasn’t good.

It made her feel sick, made tears well in her eyes, confused her beyond belief, because how – why – what was happening? It couldn’t be real, but how could something so realistic be faked? What kind of source material would have to be used in order for this to look so…so…

Barry and Savitar were kissing. They were grinding against each other. What’s worse was Barry didn’t look to be opposed to it at all. In fact, it almost looked like he was enjoying the experience.

Then they fought. They yelled at each other. Barry was furious, so Iris told herself what had come before that was a lie. But as the video continued everything screamed at her that it hadn’t been.

Because Barry succumbed again. He kissed Savitar. He sucked Savitar’s cock.

“ _That’s it_ ,” Barry whispered hotly into Savitar’s groin, kissing a space of skin just below his hip bone. “ _Tell me how bad you want me_.”

Iris turned away, covering her mouth so she wouldn’t throw up.

“Enough. Enough. I can’t – I can’t watch anymore.”

“Oh, yes, you can, sweetheart.” Killer Frost forced her to turn back around. “Try to look away again, and I’ll go kill your precious brother right now with a freezing kiss to his lips.”

“No, don’t –”

“Then, _watch_.”

Savitar said nothing; amused, _ecstatic_.

Breathing heavier, telling herself it wasn’t real over and over again, Iris watched the screen once more.

“ _Fuck that was good_ ,” Savitar said after coming in Barry’s mouth.

Hardly any time at all passed until Savitar and Barry’s positions were reversed and Savitar was sucking Barry’s cock. And then, thoroughly spent, they both sat side by side. Iris thought it was over. She prayed to God that it was. But it wasn’t. They got each other off one more time, and then just before Barry left, she heard Savitar say words that gutted her more than anything.

“ _On Rhineland and North… The caviar for Iris_.”

“Oh, my God. _Oh, my God_.”

The tears poured down Iris’ face. She wiped at them madly, but they kept coming. It was real. It was so real. Barry had _cheated_ on her. She’d been two months away from her predestined execution, and he had cheated. And not just with anyone – with _Savitar_ , the evil man sworn to kill her.

“That’s right, Iris, this recording happened just last night,” Killer Frost told her, as if she didn’t already know.

Finally, she found her voice.

“Was it…was it just the-”

“One time?” Savitar finished, a quiet cackle simmering in the undertones of his voice. “Hell no, Iris. That dirty bitch of yours has been fucking me for the past two months.” He smirked. “Since he first saw my face.”

“B-but what – _why_ – I just…”

“You’d have to ask him that.” He smirked. “Too bad you won’t be able to.”

Her eyes fixed on his, grief, outrage and fear clear as day in her teary-eyed gaze.

“The last thing you’ll see is your fucked-up fiancé running towards you, reaching you a moment too late.” He paused, an idea coming to him. “But maybe – maybe if you’re lucky – you’ll still be alive after I stab my blade through your heart, and you can leave him with some truly horrible words to live the rest of his miserable life with.”

He turned away, and Iris fell to the ground, consumed in her grief, the feeling of betrayal, the knowledge that this was too real to ignore. She had questions, but she didn’t want the answers. She really did _not_ want the answers.

Killer Frost looked down at her, amused, but didn’t say another word. She only smirked and then followed in Savitar’s footsteps.

…

After reassuring Wally, the team, and ensuring no one tell him of their other plans, Barry set off for Infantino street. He knew it was coming, knew it’d be easy to get their fast, but he couldn’t bear to bring on the event sooner than necessary. He had the speed gun, which from all accounts would work. It had put Savitar in the speed force before. It was perfectly capable of doing it again. Even for the shameful side of himself it could prove beneficial, because then Savitar wouldn’t really be dead, and he could…

He’d think about that later. All that mattered now was saving Iris. His sexual infidelity didn’t matter right now. The future beyond tonight didn’t matter right now. Even if Iris found out his secret, and he lost her entirely, tonight that didn’t matter. All that mattered was rescuing her, was keeping her alive. She was going to live till she was an old woman and die peacefully in her bed. She was not going to die at the hands of her fiancé’s twisted evil time remnant before she reached thirty.

He picked up his pace, not as fast as he could go, but still a blur on the city streets. He focused his mind on the past, the good things, on Iris West. He thought about her smile, her eyes, their love for each other, her passion for people, and her drive to do what was right. He thought of how no matter what her loyalty for him and for the Flash never wavered. He thought of how he would do anything to make her happy and to save her life. He let the feelings consume him, drive him, convince him he would save her. Savitar could be defeated. Iris would be saved. Maybe in time even his addiction could be conquered, if he wanted it to be.

He blocked that last part out again and came to a stop.

He looked around at the familiar scene, glanced at the monitor blaring recent news – only one event had been changed from the original vision he’d seen.

But one more would be tonight. He was going to save Iris’ life.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I've outlined the rest of this fic, and it should be sixteen chaps total (or 15 and an epilogue :P).


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A MILLION YEARS LATER.
> 
> Thank you, all, for being so patient. I've been short on time, easily distracted, and very tired, but I finally managed to put another chap together. It's prob not terribly interesting since 90% of it is the scenes word-for-word from the episodes, but I hope you'll still enjoy it! A heavy mixture of savibarry, saviris, and westallen is on the way (primarily the first but def dashes of the latter two as well) in the remaining chapters. Thank you again for sticking with me. If you're here for the savibarry, I assure you the pay off is just around the corner. ;)

The pounding headache, ringing in her ears, and the feeling of being crushed woke Iris what felt like hours later. At first, she couldn’t remember anything. Then slowly, her eyes blinking open, forcing her awake, she remembered.

Savitar. Killer Frost. _Barry_ _and Savitar_.

She felt her stomach lurch.

Before she could empty any contents of her stomach though, the crates amassed in a pile on top of her drove her into action. She pushed them off of her with some effort and when they were gone she found that she was completely and utterly alone. Moonlight shone through the windows on the far side of the room, in addition to a hanging lamp over one of the large metal tables, but as far as Iris could tell, neither Savitar nor Killer Frost were anywhere nearby.

“Hello?” she called into the room, half-expecting one or both of them to suddenly appear in front of her with a wicked, menacing grin.

She fully prepared herself to throw up on whoever it was if that happened.

But nobody came out.

She looked down at her hands, saw they were untied from the thick chains Killer Frost had tightly wound around them after the water incident.

“In case she gets daring,” she’d said, presumably to Savitar, who had held no objection to it.

Iris couldn’t figure out what happened, why she was alone. Had Savitar and Killer Frost gone out? Maybe to retrieve something before she was taken to Infantino Street and killed in front of Barry and everyone else? She didn’t think they’d risk leaving her alone. She might try to escape. She was considering it now.

Would it be a trap though? Would she get very far even if she tried? She couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. Especially if the showdown could be completely avoided by her getting to safety long enough for Savitar to be erased from existence.

Walking toward what appeared to be the nearest exit, Iris stopped. There was a tall mirror in the corner, slanted against the cement wall. She approached it slowly but her reflection never changed.

It wasn’t the visage of Iris West. It was that of HR Wells.

And that’s when she remembered.

Earlier, she couldn’t recall exactly when – it wasn’t as if there was a clock in this dingey old building – Iris had sat against the wall, chains clasping her wrists tightly behind her back, awaiting her death. She’d almost been looking forward to it.

Not the pain, of course. That was unavoidable. Not everyone else’s pain due to her death. She would never have wished for that. Not the future she’d planned that she wouldn’t even begin to explore. But in light of the information she’d recently received, courtesy of Killer Frost and Savitar, death was a welcome avenue when the alternative was a sickening feeling of betrayal and heartbreak. Ever since she’d known Barry, she’d defended him against anyone who wished him harm. She’d defended his insistence that his dad was innocent. She’d defended his decision to go back in time and save his mom, and then to undo it because it had caused more harm than good. She’d even come around to his reason for proposing to her, even though she had every reason to make that a deal breaker in their relationship.

But how could she defend him from this?

He had totally and completely betrayed her trust. He’d broken her heart. And he’d lied to her for months. And with the man – a time remnant of himself twisted into an evil shell of a man – who was hell-bent on killing her and had tormented Barry for months before he even met him outside of that ghastly suit.

Spurts of that video Killer Frost forced her to watch flashed through her mind. She hadn’t even known Barry was bi. For everything she knew about him, she didn’t know that. She felt as blindsided as when she’d accidentally found out he was the Flash. Except this was so much worse. This was…

It hurt to think about it. She wanted to scream at him for his betrayal, demand how he could claim to love her when he was fucking her murderer behind her back. Every tender moment, every instance of sexual euphoria, every promise that he would save and protect her felt wasted, something to make him feel less guilty about what he had been doing.

She wondered how she could ever love him at all after this. And wouldn’t it be so much better to just let Savitar kill her. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath. She wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge of what Barry had done to her. She wouldn’t have to physically restrain herself from pushing him into a dark hole by joining likely everyone else on the team – should they find out – when they cast him aside. She wouldn’t have to sever not only their engagement, their entire romantic relationship, but their friendship as well.

Never in the entire time she’d known him, even when she'd been mad at him, had she ever truly contemplated casting him out of her life. He was her _best friend_. Without him, half of her would be missing. He’d said there was no Flash without Iris West. Well, there was no Iris West without Barry Allen either. She was her own person, but all the love she held inside her flourished because he was in her life making it grow.

After months of emotional exhaustion, fearing her own death and everything she’d have to lose, and how her absence would affect everybody – especially after Barry had returned from 2024 to see the devastation seven years past her death – a new weight would replace the old one. She’d be alive but not really living. She’d be wringing herself dry, trying to return to a life that no longer existed.

And yet, how could she just forgive Barry for what he’d done? Even if he managed to save her life. Would that really be enough to wash away his sins from the past two months?

The decision alone would destroy her. It got her to thinking that if Savitar didn’t end up killing her, maybe she would just do it herself. Not once had she considered taking her own life. She had too many people depending on her and too much she wanted to live for. But this… She’d never experienced anything like this.

Amidst her very depressing thoughts, Iris had seen a blue flash simultaneous with a quiet buzzing, and when she turned to see where it was coming from, since it definitely wasn’t coming from the occupied villains across the room, relief flooded through her as she saw a familiar face.

“HR?” she gasped, making sure to keep her startled state quiet so as not to draw attention.

He met her eyes behind the several objects cluttering the floor, separating the two of them.

“ _Hi_.”

Her relief was palpable in her voice. Despite everything, her heart soared for what she suspected he was there for.

He hurried over to her, speaking for the first time.

“Hi,” he whispered, raising the blue spike from Savitar’s suit to slice through the chains binding her hands together. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“Where is everybody else?” she whispered back.

Glancing over at Savitar and Killer Frost, he continued his work.

“I couldn’t tell Barry…or Savitar would know I was coming.”

A soft clink signaled her freedom. Quickly they scrambled towards the exit.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he said again.

“Okay,” she said, hope rising in her, as she scrambled with him towards the exit.

And it should’ve been enough. It should’ve been what saved her, what saved all of them. But the spear HR held in his hand was magnetized, and it flew from his hand back in place on the suit Savitar and HR were standing right beside.

Iris and HR made a run for it, but Killer Frost was striding after them, determined and yet in no hurry after Savitar’s “Get her” drove her into action.

A dead end, as Iris should’ve known there would be. They hadn’t thought enough to figure out a successful exit, only that they needed to get away.

“We can’t outrun them,” she told HR, worried but still hoping he had a plan.

“No, we can’t,” he said, then slowly turned to her. He lit some sort of stick, what almost looked like a small flashlight in his hand, at his chin, and before Iris knew it, she was looking at herself.

“What are you doing?” she asked, HR’s voice pouring past her lips.

“I’m the reason Savitar found you,” he said. “I need to remedy that.”

She shook her head. “Not like this. Give me tha-”

But she wasn’t able to save HR from his noble cause, because a blast of ice flew at her and she dropped to the floor. Everything faded to black.

And now, here she was, all of her memory restored, still looking like HR and frantic with what to do, how to stop it.

She remembered Tracy who had helped to put together the speed bazooka, and then she thought of HR, whose odd personality had made him a reluctant addition to the team. Her relationship with Barry might be very uncertain and complicated once all of this was over, but HR and Tracy had each other. They had a sure, simple love with a promising future.

If Iris had anything to say about it, they were still going to have that.

She snapped out of her thoughts, ran to the correct exit and down the street, praying that Infantino Street was close by and that her hero could still be saved.

…

 

Barry could feel the prickle ripple down his skin beneath his suit. His fingers and toes curled. He fought to stay still. Everyone was in place. Joe was prepped with a gun overhead. Tracy was in a van nearby, ready to enact the speed bazooka just in time to suck Savitar back in the speed force he’d managed to crawl out from. The only thing left was for his enemy to show his face, so he could defeat him. And he would do it before he stabbed Iris through her back, killing her before Barry could reach her.

But that wasn’t going to happen. The Flash was going to win.

And he didn’t have to wait long.

In a blink, the man in grossly large metal armor was before him, clutching a frightened Iris in his arms.

“Flash, this is it. Now the moment is upon us. My ascension to become a God.”

A hint of a smirk shown on Barry’s face. It was easy to believe he could beat him when he was so sure they’d uncovered the perfect solution. It was easy to ignore what had been between him and his time remnant outside of their mutual hatred when his human face wasn’t staring back at him.

The cockiness slipped off his tongue. He didn’t bother to stop it.

“Not tonight.”

“Show me you’re the hero.”

Savitar pushed Iris onto the ground, and Barry was briefly distracted. Was this a chance? Should he run to save Iris now? Was she hurt? Was she okay? _Does she know what you did, Barry?_

He brushed aside that last thought. He couldn’t afford to feel guilty right now.

_Save her, Barry. Save her the way you planned._

“Let’s see what happens,” Savitar taunted.

His confidence rising again, he whispered, “Oh, I’m going to stop you.”

Barry flashed to the speed gun, fired it up, and powered it at Savitar. The supposed God of Speed ran from it every which way. Barry couldn’t keep it on him. It was too slow. But then Savitar came back to the first place he’d arrived, and really then, Barry should have been tipped off that it was too easy.

But it was too thrilling, the feeling too victorious, that the gun was electrifying Savitar, causing him to fall to his knees to be filled with that sheer power that would end him.

“It’s working,” he said to himself, feeling higher than ever, so close to winning he could taste it.

But then Savitar slowly stood up, consuming the power instead of being crushed by it. And then the stream stopped, burst into nothingness, and the gun died in Barry’s hands as his nemesis stood tall.

“What?” Shock and fear slammed into him as he tossed the gun to the ground. “Why didn’t it work?”

“I spent an eternity in a trap just like that.” He lifted the Philosopher’s stone in his large claw grasp. “You think I didn’t know how to prevent it from happening again?”

“The Philosopher’s stone,” Barry whispered, going numb.

“It’s made of calcified speed force energy, and you _gave it to me_.”

“No.” Panic raced through him. He directed his voice into the com. “Guys. _Guys_!”

“I failed,” Tracy whispered.

Barry looked above. “Joe!”

But it was too late. Savitar raised Iris up beside him. There was no way Joe could get a clear shot without fatally injuring his daughter in the process.

“You stuck me in the speed force for an eternity of Hell,” Savitar accused. “Now welcome to _yours_.”

Iris’ fear-stricken face would be ingrained into his mind every day for the rest of his life. He didn’t even realize as his actions, his words spilled out exactly as they had since the very first time he’d been propelled to the future nearly six months prior.

“No. Don’t do this.” He reached out his hand, begging for mercy in the last hour. “ _Don’t do this_.”

“Now, finally, I am free of you.”

Savitar raised his arm, preparing to pull forth the blade that would end Iris’ life.

“Barry,” Iris gasped, the weight of what was happening finally really falling on her.

“I’m begging you, just-”

“Barry!” Frantically, she pleaded. Tears filling her eyes.

“You lose, _Barry_.”

The blade thrust forward, and all of time stilled.

“No!” Barry cried out, feeling nothing at all but desperation and failure.

He ran as fast as he could to save the woman he loved. His whole life flashed before him, but no pep talk, no confidence, no alternative solution was granted him. And fast as he was, he wasn’t fast enough.

The blade plunged through Iris’ chest no sooner than a second before Barry reached her. It was yanked out and Savitar fled as she fell into Barry’s arms.

“ _Iris, Iris, Iris, Iris…_ ”

He couldn’t stop saying her name, couldn’t stop trying to shake her awake, couldn’t stop hoping this wasn’t real. But it was.

His head fell back, crying out to anyone and anything that could hear him, though he knew there was nothing to be saved. There would be no salvation for him or any of them.

By all appearances, Iris West was dead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, I kept it with HR saving Iris. So sue me. There are plenty of alterations to the finale in the remainder of this fic.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe it's been almost a year since I started this fic? Me either. It'll prob take another month or two to wrap it up, but I'm proud of what I've accomplished. I hope you enjoy this chap. Thank you to anyone who decides to read it!

Nearly vibrating in his excitement, Savitar almost phased out of his suit before reaching his lair. Once inside, oblivious to the now missing HR, he came undone. Once free of the metal, he reached for his fly and quickly released himself into his hand, the white cum spilling onto the floor. He cried out in ecstasy and planted his hand on the cement table beside him, relishing in the victory and the orgasm that had swept through him due to nothing except the sight of Barry Allen begging for Iris West’s life and him gleefully refusing.

_“Not tonight.”_

Barry had been so cocky. _So cocky_. Thinking he would win. Thinking he had the upper hand. Thinking his precious speed gun would be Iris’ salvation. It wasn’t. It would never be. In every timeline Iris died in, nothing would save her. Why should this time be any different?

But it wasn’t even Barry’s pointless arrogance being ripped from him so suddenly that gave Savitar the most satisfaction. It was the _begging_. The being at his mercy and no one else’s. Finally facing the fact that he had one card left to play, and it was getting down on his knees – though unfortunately not literally – and pleading for Iris’ life.

_“No. Don’t do this. Don’t do this. I’m begging you, just-”_

_But, how could he not?_ He was _begging_. He was shaking in his terror. It _thrilled_ Savitar. It got him _hard_. If he hadn’t been on a time constraint, he would’ve drawn the moment out longer just to see Barry Allen beg pointlessly for his nemesis not to do what he’d said from the beginning was necessary for him to be born.

Savitar felt a tingle in his nether regions, a tightness, and knew what was happening. He smirked and looked down, grabbed his dick in his hand again and squeezed. He closed his eyes and imagined someone else here doing this to him – Barry Allen, taking his dick in his hand and pumping fast and furious. Or into his mouth, taking his full length, swirling his tongue, massaging his balls, vibrating his mouth, his whole body, his-

“Fuck.”

Savitar opened his eyes to see his hand moving in a blur on his erection. He was close again. So close. He’d likely have time for another release after this one. He had all the time in the world now. His rebirth was set in stone. Nothing could take that away from him any longer. Not Barry or Iris or any do-gooder in the whole goddamn multiverse.

His life was secure.

Of course, what he really wanted right now was not just a release, not Barry’s mouth or his hand, or even his dick in his own mouth. He wanted his _ass_.

Savitar wanted to bend Barry to his will, quite literally bend him against the table or the bench or the wall – hell, anywhere. He just wanted him primed, ready, begging to be taken. He wanted to stick his hard cock into Barry Allen’s hole and come over and over again until _he_ was the one shivering with endless need.

He’d been craving that for years it felt like. For centuries. He’d lusted over his original that came from his own time. Not even this Barry. But this Barry would suffice. He was almost better because he reciprocated his lust. As much as he pretended not to, the events of the past two months spoke otherwise. He had Barry in the palm of his hand. And now, with Iris West out of the picture, he could take him as much and as often as he liked. He could fuck his original into the ground until his spirit was completely lost. He could make him eat, breathe, and smell his dick, his arousal, have it be the only scent he knew. He could make Barry his sex slave and have the whole world in all of time fall to its knees to worship him.

He was a true god now – or would be soon. There was one step left to take.

But first – _first_ – he needed this.

He closed his eyes, planted his hands on the table, and positioned himself so his dick lined up perfectly with the smooth lines of the crux of one of the legs of the table.

“ _Fuck me, Barry_.”

He vibrated his dick at full speed, the slight scratches he received from the sheer force against the cement hardly noticeable. He wanted to pretend this was Barry’s doing – _needed_ to.

“Ah, ah, ah,” his mewling increased, followed by grunts and groans and a wetness in his ass.

He wanted him there too.

He didn’t just want to fuck Barry so hard his cum couldn’t be contained in his hole. He wanted his fucking original to return the favor. He wanted them to just fuck for all eternity, to become more addicted to each other than they already were – because he was too. He’d admit to that here in his own thoughts. Maybe he’d deny it later, but so close to his victory it was safe in his mind where no one could touch it or use it against him.

He hated Barry Allen, but he’d also never had another fuck like him – not even from the Barry of his timeline. This Barry wanted him desperately. There was a need and a submission from him, and the fucking dirty talk and spewing hate from his mouth and his mind set him on fire. He knew how to put on a front of course, but in the heat of it all he had started to let go. He would do it even more as soon as Barry accepted what was between them, how twisted they both were, how no one would suffice but each other.

His breaths grew shallow, quicker. Sweat consumed his face. His hands gripped the edge of the table, and he was forced to step back. He was so close – so _close_.

He reached down and wrapped a vibrating hand around his vibrating dick and moved so fast, his whole body inevitable a blur, invisible from one second to the next with how fast he was moving.

And then he stopped, crying out a husky, heavy growl as he spilled a longer, thicker, heavier stream of cum onto the floor.

He opened his eyes and looked down on the ground at the evidence of his heady masturbation.

He smoothed his fingers over the sensitive head of his shaft and brought the few droplets of cum to his lips for consumption. Then he sucked each of his fingers slowly, imagining they were Barry’s.

He grinned.

“You’re mine, Barry Allen.”

…

Iris ran as fast as she could, a distant thought in the back of the mind that she had to run _smart_ or she’d topple over in her heels. Outside Savitar’s lair was what appeared to be an endless road in the middle of nowhere with no landmarks she could pinpoint. It was just dark and trees and gravel in some places. Luckily though, she found he’d just picked some place well hidden. Within fifteen minutes she found she was on the outskirts of Central City. Ten minutes more and she saw a parked cab. No one was sitting inside, but she saw the keys were in the ignition. She bit her lip, hesitant.

_Desperate times, desperate measures._

The door was unlocked, and the street was dark. With a turn of the key, the car sprung to life. She kept the lights off as she drove slowly away and then floored the accelerator as soon as she was a block away.

“Please be alive. Please, please be alive. Don’t die on me, HR. You deserve a full life. You deserve everything.”

She pulled over to the side of the road and parked as soon as she was just behind the building she knew her dad would be. She’d knew about the placement of everybody, even if she hadn’t seen the future of herself. The rooftop of that building was the safest place for her to be.

The building dark and seemingly empty, she got lucky that the side door near the back was unlocked, probably being her dad had used it to get in. It was propped open by a small wood wedge. She slipped inside. Light streamed through some of the foggy windows, but she couldn’t make out an elevator anywhere. The stairwell was in plain sight though, so she took it, bracing herself. She could only guess how many flights of stairs she’d have to climb, a more strenuous task due to how much running she’d recently done.

 _For HR_ , she repeated to herself, a mantra to keep her motivated.

There ended up being ten floors, and she was exhausted when she reached the top. All that faded away though when she saw the large gun laying on the cement ground. She gasped and ran to it, not even really registering that her dad was propped against the half-wall, devasted, destroyed by what must have been her apparent death.

She picked up the gun and aimed, looking for Barry and HR disguised as herself and hopefully Savitar before the deed had been done.

The scene below was eerily silent. The only movement was of Barry rocking something in his arms, holding it tightly. He was sobbing. Tracy was a short distance away looking absolutely devastated.

“Oh, no.”

She retreated from wall a few steps. There was no point in lingering longer. She was furious with herself for not waking up sooner, for not arriving quicker somehow, for hesitating for even a second to get into that damned cab and drive the rest of the way.

HR was dead. And it was her fault. It should’ve been her. It should’ve…

But then she registered her dad beside her on the ground and tucked her feelings away. He loved her so much and thought she was dead. She wasn’t. She was alive. If anybody should be comforted in her eyes right now, it was him.

She took off the hat, adorned on her by HR’s visage and looked down at her father.

“Dad.” Hesitantly, he looked up at her, confused. “Dad,” she said again, and she could hear the alteration in her voice. She was herself again.

Still confused, but hopeful despite what he’d just seen, he spoke up. “Baby?”

She nodded, and a sudden joy flowered through her, a relief, even in HR’s demise. _She was **alive**_.

“Yeah,” she sniffled, and then the tears started to flow as he stood to his feet and embraced her in a tight hug.

“I don’t understand,” he said, pulling away.

Eyes still filled with tears, she said, “It was HR.”

And she proceeded to tell him what had happened – not with Savitar and Killer Frost. She left that out. She ignored that, because right now it wasn’t important. She only told him that HR had come to her rescue, and when he couldn’t save her in the way he’d been hoping to, he’d saved her in the only other way he knew how. She’d come as fast as she could, as soon as she came to and remembered what happened, but she hadn’t been fast enough to save him.

“Oh, baby.” He hugged her close again, not saying anything else. When he pulled away again, he said the words she knew were coming but had pushed away as well. “Go down to Barry.”

She tried not to show how she was feeling, but she was terrified and part of that clearly showed. She felt unprepared to face him right now, to put up a front so they could deal with everything after Savitar had truly been beaten, and hopefully destroyed.

“Iris.” He drew her attention back to himself. “He has to be going mad with grief. Go to him.”

His voice broke at the end, and she knew there was no way she could reject his command. He didn’t know anything, and now was not the time to tell him. _Not that there would ever be a good time_ , she thought to herself.

“Okay,” she said, nodding and turning back towards the rooftop door.

She ignored any questionable stare her dad was shooting her from behind as she entered the stairwell. Once inside, she nearly collapsed, her legs feeling like jelly. She knew she had to get at least one flight down before her dad followed her. Not to make sure she wasn’t doing what he ordered her to do, but because he wanted to go down there too, to celebrate in her life after months of fearing her impending death.

She had to get herself together. She had to. She was alive. That was a good thing. And despite what Barry had done, despite a part of her feeling he was getting what he deserved by feeling such pain, thinking she was dead – or even not knowing where she was once he saw HR lying in his arms and not her – she knew she couldn’t do _this_ to him.

She remembered back to when she’d broken off their engagement because of his deceit, and the paralyzing fear and heartbreak that had descended on her when Cisco told her he’d lost the anchor tethering Barry to their reality outside the speed force. And then the incredible relief when he emerged from the portal. Their issues could be dealt with in the after. Life itself needed to be cherished at all costs. If you loved the person, you wouldn’t deprive them of that.

She hadn’t wanted to analyze if she still loved Barry or if he still loved her, because she was afraid of the answer. But she knew, at least for herself, as soon as she saw him searching around, to the roof to anywhere for where she might be, that she still loved him. No matter what he had done, that would never stop. She couldn’t bear to see him in pain.

Overcome by the need to comfort him, she ran toward him. He spotted her almost instantly when she reached the pavement and sprung to his feet, almost in disbelief that she was really here and alive after he’d witnessed who he thought was her be brutally murdered before his eyes.

She cried for what they had, for what they lost, for her near death, for HR’s sacrifice, for the uncertainty of their future, and for the cruelty of Savitar and all he had created, how he had destroyed their lives so successfully even if he hadn’t killed her.

And when she reached Barry’s eager embrace, she clutched at him tightly and let herself breathe as she cried into his arms. He held her tightly, soothingly, and she felt _safe_.

If she placed the blame solely on Savitar’s shoulders, nothing could touch them.

They would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...Iris is maybe gonna slip into a bit of denial for a while until she's forced to confront what happened between Barry & Savitar. Easier to believe the lie than face the truth if the lie is alluring. ;) Until next time!
> 
> Side note: I'm going to be starting a saviris series based off liquidheartbeats' "Life with Savitar" in which Iris *does* cheat on Barry with Savitar in every chapter that she almost did in lhb's fics. What can I say? It's a bit of a drug for me to write purely smutty cheating stories. If that intrigues you, make sure to check it out! It'll be called 'Dalliance with the Devil' (though I've yet to decide if it'll just be one story with many chapters or if that will be the series name and it'll be a series of consecutive stories under it).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Hate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12972759) by [Demetria_0620](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demetria_0620/pseuds/Demetria_0620)




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